Now You See Her
by Meredith T. Tasaki
Summary: On a planet that he swore was perfectly harmless, the Doctor finds that Rose has been kidnapped and he must work with the natives to bring down a massive government conspiracy. The way things always happen when he's in town. Complete
1. Now You See Her

Now You See Her

Rating: PGish, language mainly

Summary: On a routine visit to a perfectly harmless planet, Rose is kidnapped and the Doctor uncovers a massive government conspiracy. Well, every planet has its dirty laundry...

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Doctor Who whatsoever. Which should be obvious, as it predates me...

Notes: I'm an American, new to the fandom with Nine, so please forgive any misused phrases/character lapses. This fic is already finished, so if it isn't all posted already, it will be very soon. There are eleven chapters and an epilogue. Hopefully, none of them are too terrible...

(-)

Chapter One: Now You See Her...

(-)

"Perfectly harmless," the Doctor pronounced, grinning.

"Riiiight. 'Scuse me just a sec while I pop back to the TARDIS to look for weapons." Rose actually turned around before he caught her arm, feigning insult.

"I mean it! This is one of the most peaceful planets in your entire galaxy! Certainly safer than yours; you've no _idea_ how many times I've almost got killed on _yours_..."

"At least twice?" she guessed. That was a safe bet; she'd been there at the time.

"At least twice," he repeated, shaking his head at her ignorance. "At least twice a _week_..."

"Yeah, sounds about right for you. You could nearly get killed twice a week in a _day-care center_."

"Those places are dangerous!"

"Yeah, right. Those two-year-olds are heartless killers, are they?"

"On some planets." He beamed at her, in a particularly infectious way. "Seriously, this is a lovely little planet. Never had any trouble here at all."

"Well..." She grinned. "Okay. But if I get mugged or something, it's up to _you_ to chase 'im down and get my things back."

"Well, that went without saying." He fumbled around in his pockets, and came up with some Abledonian currency. "Go on, look around yourself for a bit. Lots of shows, 'specially festival day. People're very friendly. Oh, but don't whistle. They take that as an insult. But clapping's still fine."

"Right. Should we set up somewhere to meet--?"

"Nah, I can find you. Just meet back up at the TARDIS in a couple hours if I haven't found you by then. No worries." He waved. "Go on, now! What's the point of travelin' around time and space if you don't do a little explorin'?"

"All right. See you!"

She disappeared into the crowd, blending easily into the group around one particularly decorated stall.

It was perfect. Abledonia was one of the maybe five planets in the universe he'd never run into any trouble on. And Erina was perfectly used to tourists; she'd be able to stare at anything she liked without attracting any undue attention at all. Particularly during their yearly festival, when travelling performers and magicians from around the world gathered in the capital city to entertain. All hominids; even looked human. No, she couldn't possibly ask for a better introduction to an alien planet.

He'd thought that before, of course. But then again, if he never did _anything_ that had turned out badly before, he'd probably have to lock himself in a closet... and of course, something would go wrong even there. Had to take _some_ risks.

But really, what could go wrong?

"Hey, mister!"

He turned around. It was a slightly scruffy-looking young man, too young and inexperienced to have a booth or stage, standing in an alley with a rickety-looking box. "Doctor, actually," he corrected, stepping up gamely.

"Doctor. Sorry. Right. Watch the dance of the cards!" He clumsily shuffled around five worn-looking cards on his box. "Four reds, one princess, dancing around in their dance of, uh, eternity."

"Right."

"Shuffle around-- the princess in in the middle. See?" He turned up a card. "Uh-- I mean the princess is on the end! Yeah. Another turn of the dance-- the princess is in the middle." He turned up the middle card; it was the princess card that time. "Another shuffle of the cards-- watch if you can, turn of the hands-- and where's the princess?"

"Second to the left," the Doctor answered.

"Ah, but no, that's--" He turned over the card. "That's... damn."

"Also, I think you were supposed to ask for a wager," the Doctor said helpfully.

"..._Damn_." The young man pouted. "This is harder than it looks."

"Always is." He glanced at the table. "'Specially when you only picked it up this morning."

The man sagged. "It's that obvious?"

"Well... yeah, it really is. Sorry."

"Nah." He threw his cards down. "Knew I wasn't any good at it."

"You might be," the Doctor offered. "Just takes practice."

"Yeah, but I think I'm just gonna stick with my clerking job. I _really_ don't have a talent for this."

"If it's what you really want to do, you could learn."

"Yeah, but it isn't." He started folding up his box. "I'm not one of those Great-Code-of-the-Magician loonies, if that's what you're thinking. I just wanted some extra cash."

"Which would explain the small-time hustling."

"Yeah. Thought maybe I'd be good at it. There's a lot of money in being a magician, you know."

He blinked. "No, I didn't know that, actually. Thought it was pretty... dodgy."

"Well, yeah, usually, but if you get good enough at it, you can really rake in in."

"What, through shows?"

"Yeah. Best magicians get a government subsidy, _and_ they can charge admission. Great gig if you can get it. But those guys are _amazing_. I don't think I'm cut out for it." He sighed. "I'm just gonna go out and sell this to some other moron, maybe break even. Good luck, mister."

"Government subsidy?" the Doctor repeated to himself. That was odd.

But probably nothing. He shook his head and walked back into the street.

(-)

Rose found herself pulled by the crowd into a large town square, a simple stage set up at one end. Someone in a dark cloak was talking; she ignored him for the moment, looking around her, still engrossed in her first alien city. So much was the _same_... crowds were the same, they looked pretty much the same-- the fashion was a little too 80's-meets-Middle-Ages for her taste, though... The buildings were bluer than they should be, and had round windows, but they were still obviously buildings, and they were still obviously getting toward the financial district. The sky was a little greener than it should be, and the sun was a little brighter, but the sidewalks still seemed to be cement, and the occasional trees she'd passed were reassuringly tree-like.

The man on the stage was holding a box in one hand, and waving the other over it mysteriously. Another pass-- and the box was gone, and there was a brown bird, shrieking and flying out into the crowd.

Rose squealed with everyone else and dodged left, out of the bird's way. Meanwhile, the people who weren't dodging the bird were clapping and cheering (but not whistling, Rose remembered) and whispering among themselves. Rose found herself pushed slightly toward the stage, and didn't bother fighting it.

"And now... for one of my greater spectactles," the magician said, smiling at his audience tolerantly.

The murmuring increased, to a hum of excitement. Rose felt a little excited herself; she'd never seen a magician in real life, actually performing, before. And on an alien planet-- who knew what could happen?

"One of the Guild's more popular illusions, as has often been proved. And one that takes many years of study to master. My assistant Gila will now bring out the box."

The magician's assistants' outfits were still ridiculously skimpy, Rose noted critically. These were white, sequined and bedecked with long while feathers. And, of course, skintight. Some things never changed.

"In this spectacle... I will make a volunteer from my audience disappear." The magician surveyed the crowd. "You-- you there, with the yellow hair."

Rose looked around, to see who he was talking about.

"No, _you_, young mistress-- you there, with the jacket. Yes, you. Come here."

Rose blinked. "What-- _me_?"

"I see we're just a little slow on the uptake," the magician said, smiling benevolently at the crowd. The crowd laughed with him dutifully. "Yes, you, child. Come on up here, now. Don't be afraid."

Rose hesitated for a moment-- then went forward. It was just a silly magic trick, she reminded herself. What could happen?

"Good," the magician said, when she'd finally managed to clamber up onto the stage. "Now, young mistress, what is your name?"

"Er-- Rose," she said, looking around at the crowd nervously. "My name's Rose."

"Excellent, Rose. Now I ask you to tell our audience, in accordance with the Great Code-- have we ever met before?"

"No," Rose said truthfully, glancing around, hoping she wouldn't make a total idiot of herself.

"Are you now, or have you ever been, in my employ?"

"No."

"Have you been offered any monetary compensation for performing in this spectacle, or been told anything about it beforehand?"

"I don't even know who you are," Rose said, still nervous, but risking a quick grin at the crowd. A faint burst of laughter; she wasn't doing too badly.

"Excellent. Now, young Rose, step into the box, please."

Rose obeyed, and was now facing the audience, which filled the square. And all of them were staring at her, and murmuring.

It was rather unnerving, really.

"Now Gila, close the bottom door."

The assistant obeyed.

"Rose, are you still there? Say something to our audience."

"I'm still here," Rose called.

"Excellent. The top door now, Gila."

The top door closed in front of her, blocking Rose's view of the crowd. She was, oddly, a little bit relieved.

"Still there, Rose?"

"Yeah, still here," she replied, tapping at the walls.

"The middle door, Gila."

The middle door closed, and there was darkness. Rose's heart lurched, and she breathed deeply, trying to steady it. _Just a magic trick. There's no danger at all._

"Rose?"

"Yeah, I'm still here," she called.

The wall behind her suddenly gave way, leaving her hard-pressed not to yelp. "Here," Gila whispered behind her. "This way."

Rose obeyed quickly, having seen the sorts of things magicians did to girls in boxes. Gila pulled her back, and _down_, onto what seemed like a steep flight of stairs.

"The box is larger than it looks," Gila explained. "I pull you into the back compartment and we go down, below the stage."

"Right." Above her, Rose heard a strange metallic sound.

"That's Alorano putting swords through the box," Gila explained.

"Glad I followed you out, then," Rose said.

"He has this silly bit where he's all, 'Oh, I _hope_ she demateralized properly, I never _could_ get the blood out of the box that one time'..." Gila shook her head, still leading her down the corridor.

"Ouch. Pretty cheesy." Rose paused. "Where are we going, exactly?"

"Making you disappear."

"But aren't I supposed to reappear, at some point?"

The laugh went out of Rose's voice as Gila stopped, and turned around in the pitch-black tunnel.

"Of course not, you idiot," said Gila. "That's the whole point of the trick."

"But usually people reappear--"

A long fingernail brushed Rose's neck, strangely sharp and stinging. "Ah, silly little girl. Only if we want them to. Silly, for someone like you to put yourself at the mercy of a magician... And yet, you always do..."

_Oh, perfectly harmless my _arse_. See if I ever listen to _him_ again..._ Rose thought, and lost consciousness.

(-)


	2. Quicker Than the Eye

Summary: The Doctor discovers the trick, and begins to plot a few of his own...

Notes: Could've used "The Magician" as the title, but I like my titles to be based on more clever observations... because the more you think about it, the more it's clear he always was.

(-)

Chapter Two: Quicker Than the Eye

(-)

On the other side of town, the Doctor had found himself unexpectedly charmed into buying a scarf. It was black, with blue stars, and it was ridiculously long, and he absolutely did not want it.

"It's just your style," the girl at the booth had said, beaming at him like he was a wandering hero.

He was sick to death of scarves, and he'd gotten it anyway.

Well, he'd always been a little bit insane.

He'd stuffed in into a pocket and was now wandering aimlessly around the streets, wondering if maybe it was time to start looking for Rose.

"Loren! Loren!"

He turned, naturally attracted to the sounds of distress. It was a woman, in a particularly disastrous shade of orange, running around the stalls. "Loren!"

"Ma'am, ma'am, slow down!" He caught her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"I can't find Loren!" she cried, still looking around everywhere.

"Right. How old is he?"

She glared at him. "Loren's my _boyfriend_!"

"Oh. Right. What's he look like, then?"

"Tall, dark hair, big nose, blue eyes, ugly green shirt--"

"Right. Where'd you lose him?"

"He said he was going to go watch Erandi!" she cried. "He said he'd be back in an hour! It's been two!"

"Erandi-- that's a magician?"

"Yes! _The_ Erandi, not Erandi the bloody Dock-worker! Are you _stupid_?"

"Yep!" said the Doctor cheerfully. "Completely daft. Have you checked--"

"Lyssa!" A man in a much more sedate blue ran up to them, panting. "I checked the-- I checked everywhere. He's not there. No one's seen him."

"He's _gone_!" Lyssa cried, grabbing the newcomer and sobbing. "Something's happened to him! They've _taken_ him! They've _taken_ him, they know who we are, they're going to get us all--"

"Shh!" hissed the newcomer. "We'll keep looking, all right? Someone has to have seen him. We'll find him! All right?"

"They're going to get us all," Lyssa whispered. "They know who we are, and they're going to get us all."

"C'mon, Lyssa. It's okay. We'll find him." The newcomer led her away, leaving the Doctor faintly unsettled.

It was an isolated incident, surely, but people didn't usually disappear here.

It was probably time to start looking for Rose.

(-)

An hour later, he was standing at the TARDIS doors, still looking for her on the horizon. There was a band out nearby, playing to little notice and less money, and it was starting to get dark.

She should be there by now. She wasn't.

He threw some money into the band's hat-- they were actually startlingly good-- and stalked down the street, figuring out what to do.

He could check the city again, but she wasn't there. He'd checked it before, and he'd gone back to their meeting point and every route she might have taken, and she wasn't there. And she wasn't stupid. Not usually. For a human, at least.

So: there was someone else who'd disappeared today. As good a place to check as any.

He wasn't sure where they'd have gone, but that shade of orange would be instantly recognisable, even in _this_ crowd. And there it was, throttling a fellow-citizen.

"What do you _mean_, didn't reappear!" Lyssa screamed, as the Doctor dragged her off. "They _always_ reappear, that's the bloody _point_!"

"The point is they _disappear_, you silly bint!" the fellow-citizen yelled, dusting himself off. "I'm not a magician! What the hell d'you _want_ from me? You ask _me_, I think your boyfriend siezed the opportunity to get as far the hell away from _you_ as he could!"

"Shut the hell up, you sorry son of a--!"

"LYSSA!" The woman's friend ran up again, helping the Doctor restrain her. "This is NOT helping! Calm down!"

She did, a little, and the fellow-citizen seized the opportunity to run away.

The woman's friend sighed in relief and looked at the Doctor. "Thanks, man. Again."

"What happened?" asked the Doctor.

"We looked around to find the last person who saw him," the friend explained, after giving him a measuring look. "Apparently Erandi called him up as a volunteer in a magic spectacle-- one of those where they make a person disappear, you know? And he disappeared, but he never _re_-appeared. And that's the last anyone saw of him."

The Doctor closed his eyes. "You talk to Erandi?"

"He's a _magician_. Like he's going to talk to _us_!"

"He _will_ talk to us," Lyssa said ominously. "One way or another, he's going to talk to us."

"Lyssa--"

"They _took_ him, Andy! Just like Mina, just like Rome, just like Taro, and now we know how they're doing it, but we're never gonna prove it and we'll never get him back. Not unless we _do_ something."

"Who are these other people they took?" the Doctor asked.

"Friends of ours," said Andy. "Look, Lyssa--"

"Not just friends, were they?" the Doctor asked. "Not if they're being systematically kidnapped."

"I--" Andy started.

"No, _listen_ to me. I don't care what you're doing. I'm not turning you in. I just need to know what's going on. I want to _help_ you."

"It's really none of your business," said Andy.

"We're a political group pushing for the liberation of Anwan as a free and seperate country," said Lyssa.

"LYSSA!"

"I'll take any help I can get!" Lyssa snapped. "So shut the hell up! It's not like there's anyone else to put in danger anymore!"

"Anwan," the Doctor repeated. Became a seperate country in about fifty years, once the government realized that it was counterproductive to keep people who hated you inside your borders. "And you've all been disappearing?"

Andy nodded, resigned. "Not just us. A lot of other political groups, too. Everyone from the Prisoners' Rights group to the Militant Anarchism Society. From harmless old ladies to bitter felons. Anyone outside the mainstream. I didn't believe it for months. Now I do."

"So you think they've identified you, and they're taking you out," the Doctor concluded. It seemed a reasonable conclusion to him, which was very bad. "One by one. With these magicians, who are suddenly getting a government subsidy."

"Right," said Andy.

"What d'you think they're doing with 'em?" he asked, not sure he wanted to know.

Andy shook his head. "I don't know. All we know is they don't come back."

"Right. And, one more thing. This 'Rome' you mentioned. What did she look like?"

Lyssa blinked. "About this tall, yellow hair, big teeth..."

"When'd she disappear?"

"I think yesterday. Why?"

The Doctor resisted the urge to sigh, or scream, or mount a full-out assault on the capitol building. "'Cos I think I know where my friend Rose has disappeared to. We need to make a plan. You know anywhere safe?"

"Evidently not," Andy said bitterly.

"My place," Lyssa said. "Can't do any more harm."

"Right. Lead on."

As she did, the Doctor made a mental note of something he wanted to tell Rose the next time he saw her. _Rose? The next time I say a place is perfectly harmless? Please do me a favor and hit me with something heavy several times... ._

(-)

_It's perfect, isn't it? Using magicians to kidnap. You go along with anything they say, and everyone expects you to disappear..._

"We have to find out what happens to them," said the Doctor. "Where they're taken. D'you have any contacts in the government?"

Andy shook his head. "Do you?"

"Met some clerk today. Doubt that'll help much."

"It won't," said Lyssa, shaking her head. "I'm a clerk too."

"Do you know how these magicians are recruited?"

Lyssa shook her head.

"Any places they might be taken?"

Lyssa shook her head.

"Anything at all that might be useful?"

"I can get you into the capital building," she offered.

"And we'll help you any way we can," Andy added. "And tell the other groups what's happening. Some of them have guns."

_How do you figure out where they're taking these people, how they're doing it?_

_Infiltration._

"You're sure you don't know how these magicians are recruited?" he asked again.

Lyssa shook her head. "Usually people go out and look for them, I thought-- but recently, they've been coming to the office themselves. There's some sort of exam, where they decide if they're good enough magicians-- or, obviously, good enough kidnappers-- but I don't know what the exam's like, or what they're looking for--"

"Fantastic." The Doctor grinned suddenly. Andy and Lyssa stared at him in the way people usually did when he smiled like that. "I _am_ going to need your help. It'll be hideously dangerous, though. Have to do to you whatever the others did to the ones who've disappeared. Thought I'd warn you now."

"They're going to get us anyway," Andy said, after a moment. "Why the hell not?"

"Great. I'm going to go set things up."

"Wait, what are you doing?" Andy asked.

"Becoming a magician. What else?"

"But doesn't that take-- take _experience_?"

"Yep!" The Doctor replied, heading for the door. "Think nine hundred years' worth'll do?"

At least the scarf was going to come in handy.

(-)


	3. Sleight of Hand

Summary: The Doctor dazzles several government officials and terrifies a revolutionary. "Now, for this spectacle, I will transport this random pedestrian to another dimension."

Notes: This is the longest chapter, as it happens. It just wouldn't divide up any other way... Also, as a pointless aside, the Doctor's not the only one who's puzzled at the temperment of the Abledonians. Definitely my fault, though.

(-)

Chapter Three: Sleight of Hand

(-)

It was brilliant, really, even for him. He had the mysterious, other-worldly thing down pat. Heaven knew his wardrobe was esoteric enough. Hell, he even had a magic box, didn't he? Couldn't be better.

He looked in the mirror. Long black cloak; the scarf he'd picked up; black shirt and pants; would the pointy hat be a little too much?

He plopped it on his head. Nope, it worked. 'Course, for magicians, it was hard to go overboard.

He gathered up some supplies and put them in various pockets of the cloak. Cards, wand, rings, fancy chemicals, check. Beautiful assistant-- well-- one might've been kidnapped, but--

"Well, what d'you say? You'll help me?"

The TARDIS hummed faintly in assent.

He beamed. "Loveliest magician's assistant ever to grace the stage. We'll be fantastic. Now, where's that cart..."

He found it, and went outside.

"Where the hell did you get _that_?" Lyssa asked, agape.

"Ah ah ah, you know what they say about magicians and secrets..." He waved a finger at her.

"Yeah, they're really annoying when they have one..." she muttered.

"Either of you want to help me lift this, since you decided to tag along?"

Andy complied. "Why are you-- _damn_ this is heavy! Damn!-- why are you putting this on a dolly?"

"So I can bring it with me, of course. Every magician needs a magic box!"

"Only thing magical about this box is how heavy it is," Andy muttered.

"Oi! I'm _helping_ you guys, here! Comments from the peanut gallery stop now!"

"He's crazy enough to be a magician," Lyssa observed. "He might pull this off."

"_Oi!_"

"Sorry."

"The capitol building open this late?"

"This late? Festival week, we have to stay open all _night_, thirty-three hours a day... It isn't even _dark_ yet..."

"Excellent. Which way?"

Lyssa pointed. "You really think you can pretend to be a magician?"

The Doctor glared at her. "You know, I am sick to _death_ of this _abuse_!" He swung at her.

Lyssa yelped and jumped back, nearly knocking Andy to the ground. "_What the hell was_--"

She spun around, looking for the Doctor-- but he wasn't there.

"What--" said Andy, looking behind him. "Where'd he go?"

"Mister-- Damn! I don't even know his name!" Lyssa fumed at herself.

"Where the hell'd he go?" Andy ran around the TARDIS. "He was only gone for a second! Where could he have gone?"

"Maybe right behind you?" the Doctor suggested.

Andy yelled and jumped. "What the--!"

"It's all misdirection, you see," the Doctor explained. "I'm good with misdirection. Any more questions?"

"...What was your name, again?" Lyssa asked timidly.

"Never told you, but it's the Doctor. That all?"

"...Think so," said Andy, a hand pressed to his heart.

"Great. Let's get going." He started up again, pulling the TARDIS behind him.

"You know, I think he really _will_ pull this off," Lyssa whispered, wonderingly. "I think we really might make it..."

His responsibility again to save the day... well, he was used to it by now.

Mostly.

(-)

"Where do we go?" Andy whispered, looking around the lobby.

The Doctor walked up to the front desk. "Hi there. I was told to see someone about a subsidy?"

"Third floor, 408," said the secretary, barely glancing up.

"Thank you." He paused. "All right. You, Andy-- you take care of my magic box. Somehow don't think it'll fit in an elevator. Lyssa-- where are the stairs?"

"Elevator, over there," she said, pointing.

"Excellent. You two stick around somewhere outside the building. I should be back soon-- unless they make me fill out paperwork-- or figure out what I'm doing and send me to a gruesome death-- well, either way I'll be back in a titch. See you." He waved and waited for the elevator.

A man in a suit glanced at him. "What, you can't make it come with your magic powers?"

"No, I've used up all my magic powers on killing all the idiots who annoy me," he said, smiling cheerily back at him. "Could borrow yours..."

The elevator chimed.

"But really, it's easier just to wait for it. You're not coming in?"

The man did, warily.

"Which floor?"

"...Third..."

"Great! I'm fourth. We'll have time to talk."

"Uh..."

"As a master of magic, I have thirteen lives," he mentioned, offhand.

"Is that so."

"Mm-hmm. Gone through eight of 'em already."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

"You're all so _catty_ on this planet. Is it something in the water?"

The elevator chimed. "Your floor."

"Goddamn BNS wackos," the suit muttered, hurrying off the elevator.

The Doctor filed the name BNS in his head for future reference and pressed the door-close button.

Another chime, and he was on the fourth floor. There was another receptionist here, so he walked up to the desk. "Hello. I'm here to see someone about a subsidy?"

The receptionist glanced up at him. "You have an appointment?"

"Nope."

He sighed and flipped through a few papers. "Mr. Ori will be back in five minutes or so. Until then, you could fill out this MRF."

"MRF?"

"Magician Registration Form."

"Brilliant. I'll do that." He took the forms and settled down in an uncomfortable chair by the wall. "Name."

"A lot of those are taken, let me warn you," said the receptionist.

"Really?" He frowned. "Stage or real?"

"Who the hell can get a _magician_ to tell you their real name? We stopped trying years ago. Stage."

He blinked thoughtfully. "The Doctor?"

"Taken."

"The Professor?"

"Taken."

"The Magician?"

"One through Five. Simple-natured man, aren't we?"

The Doctor paused to give the matter some thought. He might need a name Rose would recognise... "Houdini?"

"Let me check." He rummaged around under his desk. "Nope. No Houdini. You're good to go."

"Great." He filled it in. Address: As 'sir' unless you buy me a drink. Gender: Is a social, culturally-defined term for psychological, not physical, characteristics, and therefore none of your business. Yearly Income: Haven't the slightest. Guild Status: Guild was destroyed. Long, tragic story. Rating: Can be rather insulting and discriminatory, so I never do it. Description of Typical Act: Depends on the audience. Spectacles mastered: Transformation. Transmutation. Illusion. Transportation. Divination. Disassembly. Mother's Maiden Name: Mother was never a maiden. Other long story.

He handed the forms back in.

"You magicians are hell on paperwork, you know that?" the receptionist sighed. "Never give a straight answer to anything."

"It's a fault of mine," he admitted.

"Yeah. Please wait here. Mr. Ori really shouldn't be much longer."

"Right." He sat back down and pulled out his deck of cards. "Say, d'you want to--"

"No."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and shuffled his cards. "No sense of fun, any of you."

"It's a fault of mine."

The Doctor cut the deck and glanced at the card he came up with. Queen of hearts.

"Jer, did you finish that-- oh, god, not another one."

"Mr. Ori, I presume?" the Doctor asked cheerfully.

"Yeah," the portly man sighed. "You're here for the subsidy, aren't you."

"It's like you're psychic yourself."

"Right. Step inside."

The Doctor followed him into his office. Pink walls, lined with books and knickknacks...

"Now, Mr-- what's your name?"

"Houdini."

"Right. Mr. Houdini. I am here as the first line of defense against third-rate hustlers and conmen who try to milk the state out of money. Show me a card trick."

"Sure thing." The Doctor took out his deck. "Pick a card..."

"...Any card." Mr. Poi sighed and took a card. "Right."

"You remember what your card is?"

"Yeah."

"Put it back in the deck."

He did; the Doctor shuffled, humming. "You do this a lot, I take it?"

"Came from the streets. Only one in the building who knows how to spot a con."

The Doctor glanced at the terminal on Mr. Poi's desk. It had a screen; there was a window behind the man. He cut the deck at random, slipping the sonic screwdriver into his other hand. "Is this your card?"

Mr. Poi looked at him, unimpressed. "No. But you knew that already, didn't you?"

The Doctor ignored him, shuffling a moment more while he finished his work. "Is this your card?"

"No."

"Ah." He put the sonic screwdriver back in his pocket. "Wouldn't happen to have been the three of clubs, would it?"

"It was, actually," said Mr. Poi.

"Ah. I thought I saw its reflection in the window."

"So you're telling me how you saw my card?"

"No, I don't think that's your card. Look for yourself."

Mr. Poi looked at the window-- which was reflecting an image of the three of clubs. "How the hell--" He swivelled around to look at his terminal screen, which was showing nothing but the image of his card. "How the hell did you do that!"

The Doctor smiled. "You know what they say aboiut magicians and secrets..."

"Yeah, when one's got one, he'll make you want to throttle him..."

"Seriously, _is _it something in the water around here? 'Cos I could help you fix it."

"What?" Mr. Poi shook his head. "Whatever. I'm convinced. Now, the subsidy is from the BNS, so you'll have to visit someone else to apply for that-- if you're interested. And I can warn you right now, they only take the people who can perform the flashy stuff. Girls in boxes, making people disapear..."

"I can pull that off," said the Doctor. "Where do I go?"

"Sixth floor, east wing. Go on the elevator and go down the left corridor. Jer, bring me Mr. Houdini's paperwork, would you?"

Jer obeyed. "Passed, did he?"

"Be trying to figure this one out for days," Mr. Poi admitted grudgingly. "Like how the hell you broke into my office."

"I didn't."

"Sure. Whatever." Poi scribbled something on the form, then flipped to the second page and signed. "Sixth floor, east wing, ask for Cirelli. Tell him Poi sent you. If you want the subsidy."

"Why wouldn't I?" the Doctor asked innocently.

"I dunno. No reason. I just know there's got to be strings attached."

"Yeah-- I figured. Thanks."

"Good luck," Poi said. "Be careful."

"Right. I will. Thanks." Oddly touched, the Doctor left Poi's office. Jer followed after, returning to his desk.

"By the way..." the Doctor said, leaning against the desk. "What's BNS stand for?"

Jer looked up. "Bureau of National Security."

"Right. Brain froze up for a second there. Thank you."

He went back to the elevators. National security. No surprise there, really.

Still left the question of what they did to their 'threats' when they found them...

The elevator chimed (he liked this chime a lot better than Earth's standard 'ding'), and he punched the button for the sixth floor.

_I'm too used to trouble being obvious, that's the problem. There's no armed policemen here; there's no military state; there's no alien fleet invading; there's no war on. Most of the people are happy. Most of the government is good. The trouble's harder to find than I'm used to. That's why it fooled me._

_Just bad luck we stumbled into it._

_It _is _just bad luck... isn't it?_

That question had been with him for at least eight hundred years, and he wasn't going to find an answer to it now.

He got off on the sixth floor and went left. The walls here were significantly lighter in color, and the hallway was particularly well-lit; the interior decorators clearly had a sense of irony.

"I'm looking for Cirelli," the Doctor said to the first receptionist he found. "Poi sent me."

"Third door to the left," the receptionist said, not looking up.

"Right. Thanks." The Doctor followed her instructions and knocked on the third door.

"Come in," came a gruff voice.

He did. This office was darker than Poi's, unsurprisingly. Fewer knicknacks, more books and a lot more binders.

"You got paperwork?"

"Yes." He handed it over.

"Mr. Houdini, eh? Where'd you get that one from?"

He shrugged. "Old friend."

"You say you've got experience in making people disappear?"

He nodded. "Magic box and everything."

"Show me."

"I'd need my magic box."

"We'll go get it."

This was far more proactive than a bureaucracy should be. Then again, given the urgency of his situation, he wasn't complaining. "Right. Parked it outside, actually."

"Let's go, then."

The Doctor led the way, only one worry on his mind. _If he sees Andy and Lyssa-- will he recognise them? Is there a way to warn them away?_

They got to the elevator, and waited for a moment. _If I walk far enough ahead-- hopefully, they'll have sense enough to run when they see a government official behind me--_

The elevator came, and the Doctor hit the button for the ground floor. _But how likely is it, really, that this bloke would know every single dissident in the city by sight?_

With his luck? Considerably more likely than it should be.

_Well, we'll find out._

The doors opened, and the Doctor strode out into the lobby like he didn't have a care in the world. Lyssa was there, waiting for him-- but quickly turned away as she saw the man behind him. _Clever girl. Good!_

He went out the doors, and looked both ways. Andy was standing with the TARDIS a block to the left, and wasn't running. _Well, I'll need an assistant anyway._

"This your magic box?" said Cirelli, skeptically.

"Yep. And this is a random pedestrian I paid 43 jir to keep an eye on it. Half now, half later, of course. Isn't that right, random pedestrian?"

"Uh, right," Andy stuttered, doing a passable job of not staring at the BNS agent in fear.

"Excellent. So, the trick." _TARDIS, don't fail me now..._ Random pedestrian, have you ever met me before? Do you have any knowledge of how this trick is performed?"

"Uh, _no_," said Andy, just slightly panicked. "I _don't know_ how the trick is performed."

"Excellent. Don't worry, you'll be fine. Step back a little, hmm?"

"What?" Andy blinked at him.

"Not very quick on the update when your back's against the wall, are you? I said, step back a little. I need to get the door open."

"Oh-- right." Andy obeyed, and the Doctor could only hope he'd gotten the message.

The Doctor opened the door-- which revealed, to his relief, a perfectly normal-looking blue particleboard box. This might work. "Perfectly normal box here. Random pedestrian, would you step inside the box here? It's a step up; _please try not to break anything_."

Andy obeyed; hopefully he'd understand that message in a minute, too.

"Now, for this spectacle, I will transport this random pedestrian to _another dimension_." He paused for dramatic effect. "This is a realm where few mortals have ever travelled. I can bring him back alive... but keeping his sanity will be up to him. Are you ready?"

"Probably not," said Andy.

"Excellent!" The Doctor closed the door. "Now, the transfer will take a moment. I will count _backward_ from five. Five... four... three... two... One!"

The Doctor flung the door open. Yes, still particleboard. And Andy wasn't there. _You are the best spaceship in the entire universe, have I ever told you that?_

Cirelli clapped slowly. "Can you bring him back?"

"Of course. Unless you want me to leave him gibbering in another dimension."

Cirelli shrugged. "I don't really care, but go ahead."

"Right." The Doctor thumped against the door. "Now," he said, very loudly, "I will bring the random pedestrian _forward_ out from the other dimension! Counting _forward_ this time-- one, two, three, four, FIVE!"

He opened the door, a little more slowly-- still particleboard, and Andy was there, bless him, terrified out of his mind.

"What the HELL was that!" he cried, eyes wide.

"Other dimension, weren't you listening?" said the Doctor, smiling at him. "Now I know it's a bit of a shock--"

"What the HELL was THAT! What _are_ you! You're not from here, are you! I don't know where you're from, but you're not from here!"

The Doctor shrugged at Cirelli. "The transition's a little disorienting. He'll get over it."

"Heh. Nice touch." Cirelli smiled thinly. "Come on back up. We'll file your paperwork. We can get you started on earning your subsidy by tomorrow."

"Fantastic." The Doctor beamed. "Random pedestrian, keep guarding my magic box, would you? And please don't go messing about in that other dimension; you could break something. Including yourself."

"_You're from another planet, aren't you!_"

The Doctor turned to Cirelli. "They usually get over it," he said, following him back into the capitol. "Eventually."

"YOU GET BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN THIS TO ME!"

The Doctor was, fortunately, very used to ignoring that request.

_This could work; this could really work..._

_...if they bother to keep their prisoners alive..._

_...please tell me they bother to keep their prisoners alive, just for a little while. Please... _

_Please..._

(-)


	4. Nothing Up My Sleeve

Summary: Wherein negotiations are concluded, a few things are explained, and the big show is planned.

Notes: Hmm... nothing really to say. I like Andy's reaction, though. Heh.

(-)

Chapter Four: Nothing Up My Sleeve

(-)

"DO YOU HEAR ME! GET BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN THIS TO ME!"

"_Andy!_" Lyssa ran up to him. "What the _hell_ are you gibbering about! We're supposed to be some sembalance of _inconspicuousness_, don't you remember? Do you recall telling me before we got here, 'Now, Lyssa, don't be an idiot, don't draw attention to yourself, let's keep our freedom for another day or two?' Do you REMEMBER that!"

"I-- Lyssa, he's an _alien_ or something! I am _serious_!" Andy was shaking, and Lyssa realized something had happened. "He's-- I don't know _what_ he is, I don't know if he's even-- what the hell is the word I'm loking for-- even _mortal_! I--"

"Andy. Pull yourself together. What _happened_?"

"I..." He opened the door of the TARDIS. "Right. Looks like a box, yeah?"

"'Course it looks like a box. It's a box."

"Except it _isn't_. Let's see if it'll still do it. In all the stories, it always stops working at exactly the worst possible time, so let's see if it actually still does it." He climbed into the box, and tapped at the back wall hesitantly. "Good, it's still doing it. Come on."

"Andy, it's just a fake back. They put in another wall in front of the real one to make a secret compartment."

"Really?" Andy walked through the wall, pulling Lyssa behind him.

"It's a--" Lyssa stopped.

"Best. Secret compartment. Ever," said Andy, waving around at the TARDIS control room. "Hell of an illusion, eh?"

"I..." Lyssa stared around. "What the hell is this?"

"That's what I was asking. Hysterically. At high volume. Not my proudest moment, but I think it's justifiable." He shook his head. "Don't break anything. He'll blame me, I just know it."

"But... where are we?"

"Again. What I was asking. He wasn't exactly forthcoming. You might've noticed how he didn't say anything at all."

"...Are these controls?"

"I don't know. He told me not to break anything. I'm paranoid about it now. 'Cause he could probably turn me inside out or dump me into outer space or something. So please be careful."

Lyssa poked at a lever. A screen lit up with a message saying, _Please do not push that lever again_. She backed away, slowly. "What do you think this is?"

"I dunno. That's what I was _asking_. Some sort of, of ship, of machine, of something seriously fricking _insane_..."

"How did we get here?"

"I don't know. But I think that box thing is an illusion. I mean-- watch. Come over here to this door."

She did. "What are you--"

"A step closer."

She obeyed, and gasped as the blue particleboard shimmered into existence around them. "How--!"

"It's an illusion that comes up when you get too close to the door. See?" He stepped back, and it disappeared. "So from the outside it looks like a box. That's how the trick worked, you see? He closed the door, I stepped back into _this_, and when he opened the door, it looked like I was gone. You see?"

"Well, _no_..."

"Neither do I, yeah, stupid question. But oh, when that jerk gets back here..."

"_Oh,_ yes. Let's-- let's get the hell out of here." She pushed open the door-- and, thank god, found the street there exactly as they'd left it. "That was..."

"Yeah. How long d'you think he'll be?"

"Doing paperwork? God only knows..."

(-)

"A patriotic duty," Cirelli said, looking soberly into his eyes.

_Ah. I figured it'd be something like that._ He cocked his head at him with a scientific curiousity.

"These people are subversives, and they are criminals. Some are only free because of legal technicalities. All are criminals who are a danger to the public. But we can't arrest them. And you can help us."

"You're sure this is legal?"

"...Yes. Perfectly legal."

"And you'll pay me."

"It's exactly like bounty-hunting. There's a baseline per-head, and particularly heinous criminals will net you more."

"Right. So, apprehending criminals. Isn't that dangerous?"

"Isn't that the only reason we'd pay you for doing it?"

The Doctor made a mental note to make some serious inquiries into the state of the water supply in this city. "What happens to them?"

"That would depend on their crime."

"But they haven't been sentenced. And why go to all this trouble if you were going to just let 'em out?"

"It depends on the crime," he said again, cooly. "You will escort them to our detention facility. You will be paid for this. What more do you need to know?"

"Where the detention facility is?"

Cirelli sighed and pased him a packet of papers. "One is a list of names and pictures. The other will tell you were the facility is. The last are your credentials. If you lose _any_ of this, in any way, for any reason, you will be apprehended. The penalty _will_ be severe."

"Wouldn't doubt it."

"Right." Cirelli rose. "I believe our business has been concluded, Mr. Houdini."

_Silly to hire people as agents when you can't even know their real names... it's a miracle they've managed this long. Though I suppose they do background checks eventually. Still, it's grossly negligent..._

"I suppose it has," the Doctor said, amiably. "G'bye, Mr. Cirelli."

"I assume you know your way out."

Rude, but he hadn't expected anything more. He leafed quickly through the papers on his way to the elevator. Yes, Andy and Lyssa were on this list. The detention facility-- there were directions; he could get help from Lyssa on that. But at least it was a _detention_ facility, assuming they weren't lying. If it was a detention facility, he could fix all of this by nightfall tomorrow and be gone.

If they were lying... the turnover rate would have to be astronomical to prevent him from leaving by nightfall tomorrow. If it _was_...

Well, that didn't bear thinking about. He'd think about it if it happened. Until then, she'd gotten out of direr straits.

Which was disturbing enough in itself, but he didn't have time to take responsibility for everything wrong in the world right now.

He got out in the lobby, waving at the receptionist who had no idea who he was. Lyssa and Andy... they were going to be in danger now, too. One life against Rose's, and all the others that were at stake... and it _was_ a fair bargain, because they'd probably be okay, and she'd probably be okay, and all the other mitigating factors... but he was getting tired of doing equations with lives as the variables.

He walked up to the TARDIS. "Good news. Should be able to get in fine. I'll have to kidnap one of you, though; we'll have to decide which one. There's a detention facility, so they're probably all still alive-- for the moment, at least. Don't know anything else, though. That Cirelli is the most uninformative man ever."

Lyssa and Andy glanced at each other and took a breath.

"What the _hell_ is _that?_" they asked as one, pointing toward the TARDIS.

"My magic box," he said. "Called the TARDIS, really. And it's the best spaceship in the universe. Considering all we're going to be asking of her tomorrow, you should probably agree loudly. Flattery rarely hurts."

"So, it's a spacehip," Lyssa said slowly.

"And also it travels in time. Why it's called the TARDIS, in fact; Time And Relative Dimensions In Space, y'see?"

"It's... bigger on the inside," Andy pointed out.

"Yep. Told you, it's special."

"And... what are _you_?" asked Lyssa.

"I'm from another planet," he answered cheerfully, picking up the handle on the cart. "I travel around, stumbling into messes. Explains how I wound up here."

"But, you are..." said Andy.

"Hmm?"

"...Nothing. So, what's the plan again?"

"Pretend to have captured one of you, take you to the facility, break everyone out of the facility, particularly Rose, expose the existence of the facility, and leave as quickly as possible."

"Right," said Lyssa. "Sounds good."

"Usually works for me."

"...So when you said 'nine hundred years' worth' of experience, you weren't just mocking us, were you?" Andy realized.

"Trust me, when I'm mocking you, you'll _know _it."

"I never understood that expression," Lyssa said suddenly. "When someone asks you if you've done something, and you say if you had, they'd know it? But they _already_ think you're doing it, so obviously, when you _are_ doing it, they might get it wrong. Did that make any sense?"

"Humans rarely do."

"Oh, now you're going to get all nine-hundred-year-old-all-knowing-alien on us. Just _lovely_." Lyssa groaned.

"Seriously. Were you people always this catty? Because the people all seemed pretty normal when I _last_ visited here."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah, humans rarely do." He stopped. "Isn't this your apartment building?"

"Yeah." Lyssa glanced up at it. "So... tomorrow?"

"Right. Which means, we need to work out our magic act tonight."

"Oh. Right." Lyssa paused. "So, do you guys want to come up, or should we... I don't know..."

"We'll need a little practice," the Doctor decided. "And supplies. So."

Apartment buildings in Erina didn't usually have outside steps, so the Doctor was able to wheel the TARDIS inside the lobby (though they did have a bit of a time getting it through the doors). "Should be safe here. Unless you get a lot of robberies?"

Lyssa shook her head. "And besides, who'd steal it?"

"Because it's way too big," Andy added hastily. "And doesn't look as cool as it really, really is."

"Nice save there." The Doctor held open the door for them.

"Thanks." Andy looked around nervously. "By the way, do you have any food or anything?"

"Oh yes. C'mon; we can talk in the kitchen if you like."

"You have a kitchen?"

"And a library, a few bedrooms, a bowling green-- though I never can find that bowling green anymore-- ah well, that was more for my lunatic cricketer phase, I suppose. My ship is _very_ special."

"I believe you," Andy said faintly, looking at the corridors the Doctor was leading them through uneasily.

"See? This is the kitchen. I'll put on some tea. Think I've got some leftovers around here somewhere..." He started rooting through cupboards.

"I think I know what the question is," Lyssa said, looking down at the table.

"Which question?"

"Which one of us disappears?"

"Ah. That question." The Doctor rummaged around.

"I'll do it," said Andy.

"No, _I'll_ do it," Lyssa argued. "Someone has to say behind and... whatever the person who stays behind does! You're the best at rallying people around our cause or whatever the hell..."

"Yeah, but someone's got to be the assistant, right?" Andy pointed out. "I don't think _anybody_ wants to see _me_ in some feathery skintight thing, d'you? We want to lure _in_ an audience, not leave 'em running away screaming..."

"Assistant?" Lyssa blinked. "Oh, _no_. _Hell_ no. I am _definitely_ gonna be the one he takes."

"Could dump you both on Barcelona," the Doctor pointed out cheerfully. "Probably a hell of a lot easier. You might like it there. Very interesting dogs."

"Look, it's terrible and it's sexist but magicians have female assistants, and I am _not_ going up on stage in drag, not--"

"--Not if you don't get paid for it like usual?" Lyssa sniped.

"Oi! Children! This is _my_ operation, remember? I have the magic box, I think _I_ get to decide." He tossed a couple of sandwiches onto the table. "Right. Andy's got the bigger bounty. He goes into the box. Lyssa... we'll try not to make the costume too revealing."

"Oh, _nooo_," Lyssa moaned.

"Don't worry. You can choose it yourself. Ought to be _something_ you'll like in the closet. Don't bother with the skintight, all it has to look is weird." He chuckled. "My closet, that'll be easy enough to manage..."

"Okay. so. What else is there?" Andy asked.

"The show," Lyssa snapped, obviously harboring a bad mood she intended to savor for at least two hours. "Can't just disappear you and vanish. Got to have _some_ buildup."

"Rings," the Doctor said, producing a set from his robes. "Got a little trick with handkerchieves, went over very well on Trogador VII. Anyway, they don't have to _like_ it... and the last act'll probably blow their socks off."

"Lovely," Lyssa muttered.

"Stop sulking and listen. Here's the plan..."

(-)


	5. Style and Substance

Summary: The day of the big show arrives.

Notes: Light on the magic tricks, I know, but hopefully the cattiness will make up for it. What can I say, I know my strengths...

Snuck in a little Latin, I'm afraid. Rather lame of me. You'll know it when you see it. Should translate to 'All these people are idiots'...

(-)

Chapter Five: Style and Substance

(-)

"Tough crowd," the Doctor muttered, as the very faint applause died out. "Always liked the ring trick, I did. You want something flashier, don't you? That's your problem. No appreciation of subtlety-- just want it big and flashy. Philistines. Fine. Have it your way. For my next trick, I will make a member of the audience disappear!"

A faint murmur of approval went through the crowd.

"Complete and utter uncultured twats. I'll have you know this is a dangerous little trick, here. People have gone mad. Or disappeared completely."

"Why don't _you_ disappear completely?" someone yelled.

"I am _serious_, what the hell is _wrong_ with this planet!" He shoved his handkerchieves in his pocket testily. "Catty little bipeds, all of you. Chrissa! Bring out the box for the uncultured swine!"

"I don't think you should insult the audience," Lyssa said audibly, realizing she was going to have to drag the TARDIS up a small flight of stairs.

"They bloody well _started_ it!"

"You're supposed to be nine hundred years old, shouldn't you be a little more _mature_?"

"What'd be the point of _that_?" the Doctor scoffed. "What's the point in talking philosophy to a worm? They'll never understand it, unless you give 'em a couple million years to evolve, and by then they'll have forgotten you're even there. I know. I've tried it."

"Why don't you go give it another shot?" Lyssa suggested, tugging on the cart handle. Damn dimensionally transcendent box was _heavy_.

"Don't _you_ start, now. Bunch of bratty idiots."

Lyssa rolled her eyes and pushed back her scarf. The Doctor had a large collection of strange scarves, for gods only knew what reason, and she'd chosen a red one with strange stylized green trees on it. She'd been forced to wear high boots and a miniskirt, both black, but _had_ gotten away with wearing a strange tan coat over her tube top, for which she was eternally grateful. It wasn't normal magician's-assistant wear, but, as the Doctor had observed, that phrase was an oxymoron anyway. No one would give it a second thought until it was _far_ too late. "Does mocking our planet make you feel better about yourself?"

"Chrissa, you know how I give you a paycheck every month? It _isn't_ for your backtalk."

"You try lugging this damn thing up these stairs and see what kind of mood YOU'RE in!" Lyssa yelled, finally getting the cart onto the stage.

"Oi! Do _not_ insult my magic box! That's grounds for dismissal, young lady!"

"Oh, shut _up_." Lyssa kicked the cart the last couple of inches to the center of the stage and sulked.

"Suddenly I realize why you all sound American," the Doctor muttered.

"Was that a lame insult of some sort?"

"Depends on who you ask and when. Now, for a volunteer." The Doctor surveyed the audience. Despite all the snide remarks about his tricks (bunch of lousy cynics), there was quite a large crowd gathered around; they must be finding _something_ entertaining. It would've been hard to find Andy in the crowd if he hadn't borrowed Lyssa's orange hat. "You! You there in the ghastly shade of orange."

"_Ghastly_?" Lyssa hissed at him. "That color is not _ghastly_, you girly little freak!"

"_'Girly little freak_'? Are you _suicidal_? You do realize I'm a _magician_? Bad things tend to happen to people who make me angry."

"I'm sorry, but I don't really care. 'Sides... you'd never have the nerve."

Not for someone who was merely being bothersome, no. But it _was_ something he was capable of, and from the look on her face, something in his eyes was showing it.

Andy finally finished fighting his way through the crowd, and ran up the stairs, to an interested cheer from the audience. "Please don't tell me you two are fighting," he muttered. "We do _not_ need you two fighting. At least, not until we're _done_."

"Now, Random Spectator," the Doctor said cheerfully, pretending to size Andy up. "What's your name?"

"Andy," said Andy, glancing around at the crowd.

"Right. At this point I'm obligated to ask you a few questions. Have we ever met before?"

"No."

"Are you affiliated with me in any way?"

"No."

"Do you have any inside knowledge of how this trick works?"

Andy couldn't help smirking as he answered truthfully, "_No._"

"Excellent. Now, Andy, are you of strong mental constitution?"

"Uh... I hope so."

"Good. You'll need to be." The Doctor faced the audience. "For this is no mere conjurer's box. This... is a portal into another dimension."

"Yeah, sure," someone yelled.

"_Silence_, you silly little humans. I'm serious here. This is a door into a realm no mere mortal should enter. But because you gits are easily bored, I will put this man's sanity in jeopardy." The Doctor opened the box. "In with you."

"Uh... could I maybe--?"

"_In_."

"Yessir." Andy stepped in meekly.

"Now," the Doctor said. "When I close this door, this unfortunate young man will be transported to a strange and frightening realm beyond mortal imagination. You ready, Andy?"

"Uh, I think so," said Andy.

"No," the Doctor said, "you're really not." He cheerfully slammed the door. "Now Chrissa, count down with me. The transition should be complete in five seconds. Five, four, three, two, one!"

Lyssa helped him pull the door open and posed outside it, one arm in the air.

The Doctor glanced in the box. Still looked like particleboard. Andy wasn't there. _Thank you._ "And our volunteer has vanished!"

"It's a compartment in the back!" someone yelled.

The Doctor glared in someone's general direction. "I said _silence_, fool unbeliever!"

"Houdini," said Lyssa, "shouldn't we bring him back?"

"Hmm? Well. If you really think we should bother, I could do that." He blinked at her. "Seems a waste to me, though."

"Just-- just bring him back," Lyssa said wearily.

"Fine, fine, fine," the Doctor muttered. "I shall speak the ancient words of power to bring the random spectator back. _Omnes Illi Homines Stultos Sunt!_"

The Doctor pulled open the door-- to reveal an empty particleboard box. "What the deuce? Where's the idiot gone?"

He jumped in the box. "I bet the idiot got himself lost in that other dimension. You Abeldonians are all such imbeciles. Someone's going to have to go look for him--"

"Fine!" Lyssa cried, and slammed the door on him to great cheering from the crowd.

"I hate to do that," Lyssa said to the audience, "but he's such an _ass_. I mean, I've worked with magicians before. They're all arrogant, but _this_ guy? This guy pretends he's from another _planet_. And not just _any_ other planet; _he_ has to be a nine hundred-year-old master of time and space. He drives me _crazy_. I've been wanting to lock him in his own stupid little box for _weeks_." She grinned at them. "I'm surprised he's not banging at the door, insulting our entire species and demanding to be released."

A troubled look flitted across her face. "Actually, I _am_ surprised he's not doing that..." She paused a moment, thinking, then sighed. "I'm going to regret this," she said, and opened the TARDIS door.

The wals were blue particleboard, and the box was empty.

"What the hell?" she said, blinking. "No way two people could fit in that compartment. Houdini? Mr. Houdini? Houdini, this isn't funny..."

She stepped into the box. "It couldn't _really_ be another dimension... No. Sorry, folks, I have to go beat the crap out of my boss. Be right back."

Lyssa closed the door behind her and walked into the TARDIS. "Can I _please_ take off this stupid miniskirt now?"

"Not in the control room, please," said the Doctor, working at the controls. "Besides, you'll need to be in costume when we deliver Andy. Speaking of which, go tie Andy up, would you please?"

Lyssa obeyed. "Is this really a good idea?" Andy asked, reluctantly putting his hands behind his back. "I mean, actually disappearing off the stage? _Ow,_ Lyssa! Doesn't it kind of tip our hand?"

The Doctor shrugged, with a manic grin. "Not if you're a magician. Disappearing is what magicians do, in'nit? Now, hold on tight, folks..."

"Where are we going, again?" Lyssa yelled, thrown back against the wall as the TARDIS started to disappear.

"Detention center, later tonight. We're about to skip six hours of your time. Be ready to go in, 'cos we might not have time to waste..."

Lyssa wrapped her arm around Andy's shoulder, holding him upright. "What's our plan for when we get in there?"

"Dunno yet. We'll have to wing it, really." He grinned at them. They stared back in the way people usually did when he grinned that way. It was a mix of fear, wariness, and just a little bit of hope. Mostly the first two, though.

The TARDIS settled down. "Ready?"

"No," Lyssa said. "Let's get going."

(-)


	6. Warm Reading

Summary: The Doctor discovers a few disturbing details as his plan begins to move along.

Notes: This is where the action starts to begin, where it starts to get serious. Hope no one minds...

The receptionist thing caught me off guard. Partly it's character development out of necessity, but I was still surprised I hadn't expected it...

"Cold Reading" is the term for what fraudulent psychics/mediums/et cetera do with their clients. Have you ever seen, say, John Edwards? "I'm getting the letter M... Is there a Mary in your family? A mother? An aunt?" "My grandmother was named Mary!" "Right, I'm just getting this feeling of an older female presence..." And so forth. In short, it's throwing out vague facts, drawing on the subject for confirmation, then quickly confirming that what they just told you is what you knew all along. A reading is said to get "warm" or more usually "hot" when the fradulent psychic has some information on the subject beforehand-- say, by rooting through their trash, or sending an agent to speak to them, or by having talked to them before themselves.

(-)

Chapter Six: Warm Reading

(-)

The detention facility was very clean.

Lyssa was reassured by this. The Doctor was afraid.

The thing was, the place was _too_ clean, scrupulously scrubbed like a hospital or a laboratory.

And there was only one thing that could happen to prisoners who were taken to a laboratory.

Well, technically there were a lot of things that could happen to a prisoner who was taken to a laboratory, but they were all bad. He really would've preferred signs of crude brutality... That, at least, would be easier to deal with.

But this meant trouble.

"Hullo," he said, dragging Andy to the front desk. "Got a prisoner here. Andy Sojor."

"Right," said the man behind the desk. "Let me check the files..." He tapped on a keyboard. "Right. 6854 jir. You'll get a voucher after he's processed. Your name?"

"Houdini," said the Doctor, leaning across the counter in an obvious attempt to read the man's screen.

The man glared at him and shifted his chair slightly. "Serial number?"

"76954," the doctor recited.

"Right. Well, Mr. Houdini, if you surrender your prisoner to the guard over there, your voucher should be ready for you by the time you've finished your paperwork."

"More paperwork. Lovely." The Doctor took the proferred paperwork, with no outward sign that he was faced with a choice.

If he gave Andy to the guards, he _would_ be in danger. And it was more than possible that he wouldn't be able to rescue him before they'd... done whatever it was they did to their prisoners to him.

But there might not be any other way to find out where they took the prisoners.

The trouble with that was it meant he would _have_ to leave Andy to the guards for the time it took them to get him situated. And there was no way to tell how long that would be.

Or what might happen to him in the meantime.

Andy, weighed against Rose and Loren and however many others were trapped in this prison.

There was only one choice, but that didn't make it easy.

He escorted Andy to the guard like he hadn't been in doubt for a second.

Andy nodded at him as he left, a steely look in his eyes. As if he thought he understood.

Maybe he did.

He went to the other side of the lobby to fill out the paperwork.

"How do we know where he is?" Lyssa whispered, sitting next to him, sounding young and scared and hollow.

"I can track 'im, don't worry," the Doctor answered, eyes fixed on the paperwork. "We'll have to give 'em time to process him-- settle him in with the other prisoners."

"And then what?" Lyssa whispered.

"Then we infiltrate the facility. There may be explosions at some point. Depends on circumstances and security."

"I think there should be explosions. I think that's good."

"Harder to cover up. Though you have to be careful not to destroy the evidence. But this isn't the best place to be talking about that."

"Right." Lyssa looked away.

The Doctor finished the paperwork and headed to the desk again, for another delicate balancing act.

"Your voucher," said the man, handing him a slip of paper. "You can redeem it at the treasury office, 9-7 Thursdays."

"Right." The Doctor pocketed it and weighed his next words. Don't press, don't seem guilty, don't seem like you really care. "What do they do with those prisoners, anyway?"

"What do you care?"

"Who said I did? Just a simple question, that's all. You can understand why I might be _curious_."

The man behind the desk sighed. "Look, I don't really know. They keep this kind of stuff secret, you know?"

"Yeah, but you must've heard _something_." The Doctor smiled winningly. "Whether there's trucks or not, guard rotations..."

"Yes, but I don't talk to magicians. It's a rule."

"Makes sense. Magicians are dangerous."

"Tell me about it." The man rolled his eyes. "They can drive you _crazy_, most of 'em. Bunch of self-righteous, arrogant charlatans."

"Ever met one that might be real?"

The man considered his answer, which was a good sign. "Most of these people that come in here, they aren't really _magicians_. They're, I dunno, illusionists. Tricksters. All sleight-of-hand and mirrors. Secret compartments in the boxes. In it for the money and the glory. Not like people who work with magic. I don't think there _is_ anybody who works with real magic. At least, not anymore."

"You think there were once?"

The man sighed. "You'll think I'm crazy, but I... saw someone disappear once. Disappear for real."

"Really?"

He sighed again. "I was really young. I might've been dreaming. But I was outside playing by myself-- I had this toy train, I don't know why I remember that-- and there was this guy who walked by. Strange-looking guy, too. I don't know why I'm telling you this."

"Because you can tell I'll believe you?" the Doctor suggested softly.

"I'm being an idiot." The man shook his head. "But he was _strange_. Everything about him was... alien. Magical. Like he didn't follow all those silly normal laws like jaywalking and gravity. And it would've been terrifying if he wasn't so _nice_. But he was. He gave me money to spend at the festival and a piece of candy. I wasn't sure about the candy; you're not supposed to take candy from strangers. But I could tell the coins were real, and I was going to take it and run. But... He was just drifting along in his own invisible current-- _gods_ I'm talking like an idiot. And I couldn't help wanting to see what he was doing, where he was going. So I followed him. And he... this is so stupid."

"No," said the Doctor. "It isn't stupid. Tell me."

"He met with someone, and he went into this-- this blue box, I swear, ridculously ornate, and _blue_-- and it started making the strangest noises, and it-- it disappeared."

He shook his violently. "I never told _anyone_ that. Because it's _stupid_! That sort of thing doesn't happen! The world doesn't work that way-- I know damn well the world doesn't work that way--"

The Doctor rummaged around in the pockets of his coat and found a slightly dusty and rather hard jelly baby. He held it out to the man, silently.

"W--what--" The man stared at the sweet in his hand.

"He had curly hair," the Doctor said quietly. "And a ridiculous scarf?"

The man stared at him in disbelief.

"Yeah. I used to be him, once. It was a very long time ago."

The man looked away, staring at his computer screen.

"Some of them are criminals," the Doctor said. "Most of them aren't. Most of them are people with opinions. What are they doing to them in there? I've only been in here for five minutes, and I can tell it isn't good. You work here. What do _you_ think about it?"

The man stared at his computer screen in despair. "So you're asking me to make a choice."

"Yeah. Someone always is. It's just mine tend to always be the hard ones."

"Yeah." He stared at the computer screen. "I should've known I couldn't escape it forever."

The Doctor waited. _Who it's easier to be, or who you want to be? I really am sorry--_

"Yeah. Today is obviously a stupid-day for me." He sighed. "This _is_ the main facility. Third floor up. Second is processing. I don't know what they do to them. I know it's bad. I know some of them don't survive. I know most of the others wish they hadn't. I know the turnover rate of guards is exceptionally high here. I know someone should do something about it. I know I can't. I know I'm too afraid to try."

"But you just did," the Doctor said softly, with a smile.

The man smiled back at him faintly. "I know I have access to a lot of paperwork. And I know magicians are good at sleight-of-hand. Oh, look. There is something strange directly behind me." He swivelled around in his chair to look.

The Doctor grinned and quickly shuffled through the paperwork. Prisoner roster for the last week-- _excellent_. Leave the last page for him; didn't want to make it obvious.

"Of course, all the papers you'll _really_ want to see are on the fourth floor, Laboratory Admin," the man noted casually.

"I figured. Shift change?"

"Standard three-shift. Done?"

"Yep."

The man turned back around. "So. I wish you luck. 'Cause if you _do_ screw this up, I'm gonna see the innards of this place firsthand. And I'd _really_ rather avoid that."

The Doctor smiled. "I'll do my best." He held out the jelly baby again. "Thank you."

The man smiled and took it. "Bit dusty, isn't it?"

"Like I said. It's been a long time."

"Are you ever gonna explain it to me or anything?"

"I don't know if I'll get the chance."

He shrugged. "That's okay. It doesn't really matter. I know what it means, anyway." He dusted off the candy and dropped it into his pocket. "Never have seen anything like these again. Where did you get them, anyway?"

"Another planet," the Doctor said apologetically.

"Damn. Ah well." He smiled grimly. "Be seeing you."

"Goodbye."

The Doctor walked out of the detention facility into the sunlight, and stopped there, staring upward, as if he was looking for something. Lyssa came up behind him. "Did you get anything?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

He shook his head. "Charm. Insane coincidence. The usual. The thing is, _I have no idea._"

"Ah." Lyssa shrugged. "Don't really care. What'd you get?"

"I know when the shifts change. I know where they're keeping them. This form might even tell me what cells they're in. Or at least, what cell _blocks_."

Lyssa smiled. "Great."

"Now all we need is a plan." He stared at the sun a minute longer. "Come on. Let's make a plan."

"Right."

"Keep in mind it'll change within five minutes of the actual attack."

"Yeah, I could guess that. Isn't there a saying, battle plans never last five minutes after meeting the enemy?"

"Pretty accurate. 'Cept sometimes it's five seconds."

"Wouldn't shock me. 'Specially hanging around with you."

"Yep." He smiled. "Let's go."

(-)


	7. Misdirection

Summary: "Hello! I'm here to destoy this facility. Thought I'd warn you so you could update your resumes, or whatever it is you have on this planet. Though if I were you, I really would've gotten on that as soon as I'd heard the blaster fire. You _knew_ this couldn't last."

Notes: This is about the time, incidentally, that Lyssa dropped a bombshell on me. This was so good to write; it surprised me, it was often fun, it came pretty easily, it actually got _finished_ (miracle of all miracles), and also, it really turned out pretty well. Good days.

(-)

Chapter Seven: Misdirection

(-)

A quiet tangle of events. Actions, reactions, bouncing off each other, crossing, joining, seeming haphazard, but sometimes joining in such perfect and elaborate circumstances that he couldn't help but wonder if it was tending to some end, if there was some grand purpose for the universe, if there was some grand purpose for _him_.

It was a terrifying prospect, but it would explain a lot.

But whose purpose _was_ it?

The eternity that dozed within the center of his ship hummed slightly louder, as if to comfort him-- or maybe just to remind him that he had more urgent matters to deal with.

"So we're clear on the plan?"

Lyssa nodded. "I get past the guard and unlock the cells. You create a diversion of some sort you refuse to elaborate on. You join me whenever you can and help me take everyone out. To be amended as needed."

He nodded. He didn't like leaving her to deal with the prisoners, especially since he wasn't sure what shape they'd be in. But someone had to cause a diversion, and he'd always been wonderful at that. Sometimes even intentionally.

"Seems pretty simple. Let's go."

"Lyssa--" He hesitated. "Lyssa, it's a laboratory. I don't know what you're going to find. Just be careful, all right? Try to be prepared."

Lyssa blinked. "What do you mean, a laboratory? Why would they take prisoners to a lab?"

He couldn't think of anything to say. Not anything that he wanted to tell her.

"What use would they have for prisoners in a lab? They couldn't be janitors, what else could--" Something flickered in her eyes, but she quickly pushed it away. "What else could they be? I think someone was lying to you. It couldn't be a lab."

If she wasn't going to have to face the reality, he'd have gladly let her keep her delusion. "Lyssa. It's a lab."

"Couldn't be."

"I don't know what you're going to find in there," he repeated. "I don't know what they're doing to them. There isn't any way to prepare yourself for it, but try to be strong."

She took a deep breath. "I don't believe it. It's not possible. Not here."

"As impossible as the government secretly employing magicians to kidnap 'undesirables'?"

"Shut _up_!" she screamed, looking around for something to throw at him. "You don't _understand_!"

"Oh, really? You sure about that?" He glared back at her, running out of patience. "I have a friend in there too, you know! I don't know what they're doing to _her_, either! I'm not sure I'm getting her back, either! That's just the last two _days_ of my experience, and I obviously understand. Want to go back any further?"

He could tell from the look on her face that something in his eyes was making it very clear she didn't. He just wished he had more control over that "I am a nine-hundred-odd-year-old Time Lord who has seen more devastation in one year of my existence than you ever will in a hundred years of yours" look. It could be very useful.

Still, it usually appeared on its own whenever it was really needed.

"I'm just worried," she said, looking down. "I'm just terrified to death. Almost everyone I know is in there."

"Yeah. I know."

"Yeah." She sighed. "Let's do this. I mean it; let's do it now. I don't want time to lose my nerve."

"The shift change is in fifty minutes. If you can get your way past the guard without attracting his attention, and he isn't gone in half an hour, don't wait until he leaves before you start. We want a few tired guards waiting for the end of their shifts, not fresh guards surveying the area for the first time, or especially not both sets at once. Best case scenario, this is over before the new shift even comes in."

"Worst case scenario?"

"Pretty obvious, isn't it?"

"Uh, yeah, now you mention it." She winced and let out a shaky breath. "Let's just hope that doesn't happen. Today would be a _bad_ day for me to get captured for experimentation."

"Yeah, you could say that about pretty much any day, though, couldn't you?"

"Yeah." She nodded, with a faint smile. "Right. So let's not waste any more time! Let's get going."

"Remember, when the guards all leave--"

"That's your diversion. It better be a damn good one, too, or I swear to gods I will haunt you for the rest of your life."

_You'll have to join the queue_, the Doctor didn't say. "Good luck. Let's go."

(-)

The paperwork the Doctor was looking for was sitting on the table, in front of the Laboratory Admin receptionist. There was no way he could get to it without being seen.

Fortunately, he wanted to be seen today.

So he walked up to the front desk and took the file away from the receptionist, leafing through it. "H, S, here's T. Ta, To-- ah, here we are. Tyler, Rose. That's who I'm looking for, you know. I'm going to break her out of here. I wonder what you've done to her? This file is remarkably uinformative. 'Mild Salsa Project'? 'Project Highflight'? 'Project Bad Wolf'? You people are _bad_ at naming things." He shook his head, apalled. "It's almost as bad as another planet, quite a bit like yours, that calls the creation of all matter out of a speck the head of a pin the 'Big Bang'. A six-year-old could come up with a more evocative name. Pathetic, really. Oh, I see you called the guards. How delightful."

The Doctor ducked behind a corner and pulled out a blaster, firing cheerfully at random vases. "Do get out of the way. It's a rescue attempt, y'see, and I would hate for any of you to get caught in the crossfire. I do abhor violence." He ducked across the corridor, avoiding blaster fire. "Oh, you people have perfected laser-type guns! That's new. I imagine the government's kept that a secret from the general public, like everything else. Ah, the surveillance room! Fantastic." The Doctor drew his sonic screwdriver from a pocket and fiddled with the lock. "Right. Be back in just a sec."

He threw open the door and went inside. "Hello! I'm here to destoy this facility. Thought I'd warn you so you could update your resumes, or whatever it is you have on this planet. Though if I were you, I really would've gotten on that as soon as I'd heard the blaster fire. You _knew_ this couldn't last. Oh, is that the video of the hallway? Excellent. Looks like my video loop worked perfectly. Shouldn't you people be watching the video instead of staring at me like that?"

On the monitors behind them, Lyssa was busy finishing installing the _real_ video loop. "Not that it matters. My plan's over. Did you know that there is a vast number of armed guards right outside this door? Did they care enough about you to make it blast-proof?"

There was a bang on the door. "_Magician! Come out with your hands up!_"

"That wouldn't really help them any," the Doctor confided to the security officers in the room. He raised his voice to talk to the armed guards outside the door. "I'm in a room with people. I have a gun."

There was silence for a moment. "What do you want?"

The Doctor grinned. "Oh, I could talk about that for _hours_. But, since you bring it up, I'd like a professional hostage negotiator to come here. I'd also like three pizzas and a pony."

The two security people stared at him. "...Why aren't you pointing your gun at us?" one asked.

"Why should I bother with that? Not like you're _hostages_ or anything."

"But-- but you just said you wanted a negotiator--"

"Only 'cos they asked first. Amazing how you can give people two unrelated facts, and they'll draw whatever conclusion they want."

"So..." said the other. "You're saying you won't hurt us?"

"Not if I can avoid it, no," he answered cheerfully. "Though I'd prefer it if you didn't try to leave the room."

"But... _why_?"

He just beamed at them. "If I told you, then it wouldn't be a secret plan, now would it?"

They edged slowly away from him, the way people usually did when he beamed like that. It was probably, he didn't mind admitting, a very good instinct.

Lyssa was on her own now. He didn't know what she was facing, but he was pretty sure she'd manage to face it, one way or the other. And if their plan _did_ succeed, she would have plenty of time to cope with whatever she'd seen. But he wasn't worried, because she was no hothouse flower and that side of the affair was out of his hands. All he could do was give her time.

"What _is_ a pizza, and where can we find one?" a guard yelled through the door.

"How is that _my_ problem?"

If this plan depended on his ability to ramble, this might wind up being the easiest prison break he'd ever concocted.

For him, at least.

(-)


	8. The Reveal

Summary: The truth is finally revealed, and Lyssa must make a terrible choice.

Notes: Like I mentioned before, this is when Lyssa really began to surprise me. It's so easy to gloss over, when you're reading a book or watching a TV show-- you don't think too much about how hard the situation is for the character, because you know it's fiction anyway and everything's going to turn out fine, because after all, next week's episode would be pretty boring if it didn't. Writing it, though... it was a bit of a revelation to me. 'Cause you kind of _have­_ to understand it when you're writing it-- at least, if you're doing it right, you do.

(-)

Chapter Eight: The Reveal

(-)

_He looked for anything as strong as death,_

_And wond'ringly discovered life and love._

_His castles fell, as sure all castles will,_

_But what better rock to build foundations of?_

Lyssa breathed in, breathed out, reciting any rhyme she could remember, humming every song she knew inside her head. _Calm. Focus. This is all up to me._

She was rather terrified. _I am the LAST person I would want all of this up to--! I wish I'd persuaded Andy to stay behind instead--_

_No. Medical experiments? I couldn't risk it. Who knows what they might be injecting people with? Who knows what might have happened?_

The guard was still at his post. _Five minutes. Isn't long at all. Plenty of time left. Doesn't mean our plan is crumbling apart into tiny little pieces in the least._

_Focus, Lyssa, focus. He was standing in the bookstore, rooting through his pockets for change. It was December, and he was wearing a fuzzy green scarf he told you his little sister made for him. He had that tan coat of his, and that wild black hair, and he was somewhere between embarassment and pleading, saying it was a gift, he hadn't been able to find it anywhere, this bookstore was the only one that had it in stock because it was the best in town, and really, it was only a lousy 1.40, barely enough to buy a dust speck, and couldn't he just let it slide, just this once?_

_You were feeling generous that day, because you'd just aced your Accounting midterm, much better than you'd expected, and you were full of dreams and joy. Not to mention that for once, you actually HAD a few jir on you, and you wanted to fix the whole world, heal every wound in existence just like that. Before you realized just how wounded the world was._

_So you stepped up and paid the cashier, and he turned and gave you the sweetest smile you'd ever seen. His eyes were gold like morning, and he thanked you, and he told you about his sister, and you told him about everything you knew. Talk turned to coffee turned to walking home turned to dinner, and you felt like you were suspended in his shaft of sunlight, like you were captured, bound, fit._

_And eventually you realized that was love._

_Lyssa, think about him. Think about love._

Her breathing was quick, but as even as she could reasonably hope for. The guard's radio beeped, and he hurried toward the front of the building.

_Now_.

Lyssa had already stripped the wires; she cut them now, and spliced whatever the hell it was the Doctor had given her in. She hesitated a moment more-- then hurried down the corridor, looking for locked doors.

The Doctor had given her some sort of electronic skeleton key, though she couldn't for the life of her imagine how it might possibly work. She didn't intend to ask, either; she planned to just open any door with a lock and see what happened.

She opened the first door with a lock. It was the janitor's closet.

_Well, lovely_. She hurried to the next one.

This was a bright, blindingly white room, sterile-smelling, with spare hospital cots in a neat row in the middle, and a two-way mirror on the wall.

_Bad. This is bad._ She shivered and ran to the next room. This one-- _was_ a cell. White, with the same type of cots, the same kind of brilliant light that made you wonder why people considered 'light' a synonym for 'good'.

There was a skeleton on the cot.

No, not a skeleton; the wires attached to a panel on the wall clearly showed a heartbeat. But the prisoner was as thin as a skeleton, and almost as pale.

Three other pale figures in white hospital robes turned their heads to look at her, apathy warring with hope.

"This is a rescue mission," she said, hand shaking as it tightly clutched the door. "The door is open. Anyone who wants to leave this hellhole, come with me."

The bony figures glanced at each other fearfully-- or, two of them did. The third, a delicately-featured thing with deep blue eyes, stood and followed.

"It's a risk," she said, in a high, thready voice that sounded fragile enough to break. "But I would die trying rather than locked in this room. For you know we shall die. When you come to terms with that, hope the door will still be open. Chances have a way of slipping away."

Lyssa left the door open and continued down the corridor, shakily. "What did they do to you?"

"Retrovirals," she said, voice holding a trace of an accent. "Recombiant DNA. They seek to change us. They wish to design people to their specifications. They use us to find out how. People like cold soldiers, I would imagine. Geniuses as well. We become the birds. Our bodies thin, frail, become hollow like birds'. And they give us wings."

Lyssa stared at her, horrified. "They're... learning how to change DNA to do what they want. To make who they want." She shivered convulsively. "_How soon_?"

"It takes weeks for it to fully take effect. Usually it kills. They learn from when it almost doesn't. They splice better the next time. Woe betide the poor soul who becomes what they seek..."

"When you're brought in. When does the treatment start?"

She shook her head. "Hours."

Lyssa paled and sank against the wall. "Can it be stopped?"

"In theory? Yes. Reality? I cannot tell. Not for me, I know. Maybe for whomever it is you seek. I would wish you every luck."

Lyssa took a deep breath. "Thank you. But this has to be finished." She got to her feet and looked for the next locked door.

"Beware. Some have been driven mad. Some have been turned into animals. They may attack."

"Right." Lyssa opened the next locked door. More skeletons, though now that she knew what to look for, she could see the malformed wings under their gowns.

"I will talk to them. You unlock the doors."

Lyssa nodded, and looked for the next locked door.

This was, she figured eventually, the 'bird' wing-- though that was the worst pun ever. Every room she opened had the skeletal creatures inside, four to a cell, monitors beeping placidly. And, she realized, the prisoners looked better, more active, with every cell opened-- she was going backward from date of capture.

Which meant yesterday's captures were coming up soon. Loren or the Doctor's Rose might be among them.

The hallway was about to cross another, and she realized it was a central hub. _Newest'll start out near the main hub. They'll be moved outward as-- as slots open up the other direction. They just push 'em all back._

_I'll think about that later._ She opened the last door, throwing it open desperately. _Please, this doesn't sound as bad as the other things they're doing, please--_

"Lyssa!"

She gasped as she saw that Loren _was_ there, pale and queasy-looking on the nearest side of the cot, because wishes weren't supposed to come true and the sheer relief of it was making her head spin. "Loren--"

He was up, then, and holding her tightly, as tightly as he ever had, as strong as he'd always been. "Lyssa, how the hell--"

"_Really_ long story," she laughed, holding his head in her hands. "For now, we'll call it a miracle. We're breaking this place open and letting everything out. Want to lend a hand?"

"Are you _kidding_!" He laughed and spun her around. "_Yes!_ Where's the dynamite?"

"Called something different, but I do have a supply in my bag. Saving it for the research lab and main computers. Here's hoping they were too paranoid to back anything up..." She pulled him out of the room; his two cellmates followed after, looking appropriately vengeful. "We'll start out from the hub. Some of them might get violent; this way we'll be prepared before we see any symptoms that are too extreme. There's a girl named Rose, who came in the same time you did-- look for her. Tell her we're here with her Doctor. She should know."

Lyssa glanced around and realized she had an audience, at least twelve volunteers of varying degrees of frailness. "You aren't leaving yet?"

"I want to help," said one.

"I want to beat the living crap out of the people who did this to us," said another.

"...Yeah, okay. Me and Loren are going to find the best things to blow up. You-- here." She tossed the keys to the one who'd said he wanted to help. "Press the blue button, point it at a lock. Look for Rose, remember that. It's a debt we owe."

The man nodded and hurried to his work.

"This way is the admin, so the holding cells should be there too," she said, running down the corridor, pulling Loren behind. "Let's get Andy out of here before they do this to him too."

"Andy? How'd _he_ get into this?"

"Long story you'll never believe."

"And what are they doing to us?"

Lyssa did her best not to skid to a stop. "You don't know?"

"No. All I know is they were injecting us with something. Oh, and I also know it's probably bad. That wasn't hard to guess."

"Yeah," she said. "It's bad."

"What is it?"

She hesitated. "That door looks nice and official--"

"Lyssa--!"

"They're screwing with people's DNA," she said bluntly. "I don't know how. I don't know if it can be reversed. But it'll be okay. I promise you, no matter who I have to kill, it'll be okay."

"...Oh."

"Yeah. Official-looking door." Lyssa opened it, carefully not thinking about the future, because that was the only way to get through the present.

"This is the lab," Loren said, staring around. "This is where they brought us."

"Do you remember from which door?"

"There." He pointed. "Those should be the holding cells."

"Great." Lyssa tried the lock, then kicked the door down. _Tell me we didn't leave it too long--_

"Hey, Lyssa, Loren!"

And, thank God, Andy was in the third cell down, waving and grinning. "See? I told you we were planning an escape attempt!"

"Damn, wish I'd kept the key." Lyssa examined the cells critically. "Lucky I kept the acid."

She dropped the acid on the latch. "Ought to take-- couple seconds. So Andy, who are your friends?"

"This dumbass little punk is _not_ my friend," a burly man snapped, sulking.

Lyssa smiled at him. "Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me not to open your cell door? Sure, you'd get out eventually-- probably-- but do you _really_ want to be antagonizing me today? Honeybunch, I have had a _bad_ week. Don't piss me off."

She smiled cutely and spun around, kicking Andy's door down. "I'm in the mood for kicking things. Don't make no difference to me if your ass gets added to my list. You gonna be good?"

The man nodded grudgingly.

"Good. We're making progress, then. Andy, Loren, you two go find the best places to put explosives. Aim to destroy as much information as possible. Try to hurry; I don't know how long we're gonna have..."

Lyssa leaned against the cage, as a terrible thought occured to her. _If we destroy the information, do we destroy the only way to figure out how to reverse this?_

A terrible price to pay. Loren... _Wouldn't they just figure it out again eventually anyway?_

_But the word of dissidents isn't going to be believed, not with the evidence we have, not if they can run this sort of operation with impunity. _She wasn't foolish enough to believe for a second the government wouldn't silence them again if given half a chance.

_They could just start up again. Clean the hallways, install new locks, revamp the security, and they could use this same equipment, this same room._

_Healing the damage, versus making sure it's never inflicted again. _

_Except I can't do either, I can't do either--_

There wasn't enough information, she couldn't get enough information. The only answer was in the future, and she had to make this decision now. _Set this place on fire. From the humanity in you, set this place on fire. There's no other decent thing to do._

_Even if it did destroy the cure but not the disease. There's no other decent thing to do._

"I think I found the main computers, and Loren's found the files," said Andy, poking his head in. "I think I know where to put it. Where's the explosive?"

She rooted around in her bags for the cans. "Be careful. They're volatile, and the only sure thing about the fuses is that the time they say is wrong. I don't even know which way, so we need to get the _hell_ out of here as soon as we set it up."

"The hell did you get these things from?"

She smiled shakily. "Three guesses--"

"--yeah, of course, stupid question." Andy grinned back at her. "Come on, let's get this done and get the hell out of here, yeah? Burn this place and tell the world. We can practically stand a chance of _living_ through this now. How cool is that?"

"Yeah," she lied. "Might just be okay..."

(-)


	9. The Curtain Falls

Summary: The chapter where all the explosions start. What more d'you need to know?

Notes: The bit where I play catch-up with Rose was a bit awkward to write, but at least, I think, it works. For the most part.

(-)

Chapter Nine: The Curtain Falls

(-)

"I want to know how it ends," the Doctor insisted.

"But sir, the end hasn't been _written_ yet," the negotiator said desperately. "You're gonna have to ask us for things we can give you!"

"Really? Why would I want to do _that_?"

The negotiator was silent, unless that odd banging noise was his head against the wall.

"I keep giving them hints," he confided to his hostages. "It's not _my_ fault if they can't figure it out."

"You don't _want_ anything, do you?" said one of the security people. "You keep asking for things you can't get. And all you _are_ getting is... time."

The Doctor beamed at him. "See?" he said. "It's simple. What are you doing staring at cameras all day, anyway? With a mind like yours."

"...Please stop talking to me. It makes me very afraid."

"Not my fault you've lived a life of sin and mediocrity. Don't blame me for the problem; just start looking into yourself to fix it."

"Right," said the negotiator. "You want to know how it ends? Miho turns out to be an ancient priestess of darkness, trying to twist our interpid heroes into becoming her sacrifices so she can bring about a reign of darkness. But the girl the main guy's been crushing on all through the story manages to save them, and Miho finds love herself. All right?"

"You made that up," the Doctor accused.

"OF COURSE I MADE IT UP, YOU PSYCHOTIC LITTLE MAN! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!"

"I an NOT little!" the Doctor yelled, and smiled at his hostages. "See?" he said. "I could do this forever."

"You aren't, are you?"

"No. I'm just waiting for the explosions."

"...The _what_!"

"Oh, you'll see..."

(-)

When Rose had regained consciousness, the first thing she had done was kick the hell out of the magician's-assistant bitch who was carrying her. This had quickly resulted in her being rendered unconscious again.

The next time Rose regained consciousness, she was, for reasons passing understanding, in a sophisticated lobby, and her captors were bickering with the receptionist.

"What do you _mean_, been captured already!" Alorano demanded furiously, gesturing grandly. "She's right _here_!"

"She's already in the system," the receptionist said, with elaborate false patience. "Obviously, one of you is wrong."

"Obviously, you have to take her."

"Oh, really? Why is that?"

"Because you can't very well let her _go_ at this point. And besides, you don't even know which girl isn't her!"

"Doesn't mean I have to give you your money."

"Doesn't it?" Alorano waved his wand at him threateningly.

The receptionist rolled his eyes. "What _ever_. Here's your damn voucher. I suggest you fill it quick, 'cause the bosses'll stop payment on it if they get half a chance. Give her to the guard and get out."

Rose had been shoved toward the guard as the magicians skulked out. Rose noticed to her great satisfaction that Gila was walking with a very pronounced limp. _Hope you're bleeding internally._

The guard had pushed her into a bathroom and ordered her to put on a strange white gown that looked far too much like a hospital gown for Rose's peace of mind. She'd checked the windows; sealed tight. No other doors.

So she'd pretended to be sick and hid beside the door, hoping to slip out when he came in.

Unfortunately, the guard had caught her before she'd gotten two steps away, and injected her with something that caused her to lose consciousness. _Again_. She was getting bloody sick of it.

She'd woken up in a cell, with a grumpy, burly, hairy-looking man as her only cellmate. This man, she'd learned quickly, had been a vocal member of what sounded like this planet's version of the Ku Klux Klan. He did not have a high opinion of women, but thought the pretty ones were good for one thing, at least.

When she'd kneed him, she'd managed to slip away long enough to pry the toilet lid off the bowl. When he'd come at her again, she'd gotten the hinges loose just in time to swing at him with it. It had taken a few swings to bring him down. And his head was not looking pretty at all. Not that it ever had.

What made it worse was she was seeing it in stereo. Her head hurt, her vision was blurry, and her thoughts were scrambled. Some were coming too slow, which she could've understood, given how many times she'd been knocked out in the last day-- but others were coming too fast, and that just confused her.

She checked herself for injuries. There was a sore spot at the back of her neck, several bruises just about everywhere, and a place on her arm that looked disturbingly like an injection site. Drugs would explain a lot, yes. It was nice to know why her head was spinning.

Kidnapped, by a magician. Taken to some sort of prison... or was it a prison? They kept injecting her with things, and this room was disturbingly white, glaring into her eyes in a way that almost hurt her. And there was some sort of pad on her chest, and a steadily beeping monitor on the wall.

She glanced at the other monitor. Beeping, a little haphazardly, but beeping nonetheless.

_Perfectly harmless. Yep. Most harmless planet I've ever been on._

She paused. _What if this really IS the most harmless planet he's ever been on? Does that mean every planet's dangerous? Or does it mean he can't go anywhere that isn't? Does he create danger, or does something drag him to it? Or both, or neither?_

_I can't think like this..._

When the man stirred, she hit him again. She'd yelled for the guards, but clearly the guards weren't coming. She wondered if anyone ever would.

But someone would, she knew that. The Doctor was going to show up any second now.

It still came as a bit of a shock when the door opened. "Doctor?" she cried, jumping up. Unfortunately, the motion made her dizzy, and she had to lean back against the wall.

"Wow, who's that guy?" someone said. Not the Doctor, then. Odd.

"Some pervert," she said, working to straighten up. "Attacked me. Beat him with a toilet lid. Seemed appropriate."

"Ah," said the guy, and paused. "Wait, you said something about a doctor?"

"Yeah, thought you were him for a second."

"You're Rose, aren't you? I'm suposed to be looking for you. I'm supposed to tell you he's here."

"Really!" Not that it was much of a surprise; whenever there was trouble, he was there. Whether trouble was following him or the other way around, though, was an excellent question that she was _way_ too dizzy to contemplate at the moment. "Where is he?"

"I don't know. She just told us to tell you--"

"She. Who's _she_? _Where's _she?"

"That way, but--"

Rose ran the way she thought he was pointing, trying to clear her vision, trying not to run into any walls. Instead, she ran into a woman, and panicked for a second before she realized this was probably who she was looking for. "The Doctor. He's here?"

"Rose?" said the woman. "Oh yeah, definitely Rose. He's here. He's safe. We have to get out of here before the computers blow up."

Rose shrugged. "Okay," she said, and took hold of someone's hand, running behind them. She was pretty good at that; that was pretty much second nature. "Who are you?"

"My name's Lyssa," she answered.

"Nyssa?"

"Lyssa. I'm a native here. I take it you aren't."

"No. What happened? Why did they kidnap me?"

"'Cause you look a lot like a friend of mine. It's a _really_ long story, and I fully intend to make the Doctor tell you most of it, because it has been a _really_ long day, and he seems like he's used to it anyway."

"Who's this Doctor, again?" Loren asked, pulling open the exit door.

"Not entirely sure. Can you tell us, Rose?"

Rose shook her head. "Not really, no. Not when the world's going in circles like this. Wait, is that just me? Yeah, probably just me. Sorry."

"No, me too," Loren said cheerfully. "Everyone gotten out?"

Lyssa looked around. "Is everyone out?" she yelled. "The place is about to blow!"

"Couple doors down corridor three, they started to attack," said the guy she'd given her key to, holding his arm like it was broken and sporting an ugly gash on his forehead. "Got more and more like animals, attacking anyone they saw. We had to leave them there. At least if they try to destroy the evidence, they'll have a hell of a time with _them_. Less than they deserve. Other than that, I think we're all out. Here's your key thing back. What was that you said about an explosion?"

There was a muffled bang, and a small fireball blew the roof off the central section.

"That would be the files and computers," Lyssa said, suddenly weary. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"The Doctor..." Rose said, a hand to her head. "Where...?"

Lyssa shrugged. "If anyone can get himself out of trouble-- I'm sure he'll turn up. Meantime, let's get out of here. You look like hell." Lyssa took her arm. "Gods, you're burning up!"

"Really?" Rose said dizzily. "Oh! That makes sense. I have a fever. Right." She smiled at Lyssa and promptly fell unconscious. Again.

"Fever," Loren said as Lyssa struggled to catch her. "I don't have a fever. I don't see anyone else with one, either. Why does she have a fever?"

"Flu?" Lyssa grunted, trying to stand upright. "_A little help here?_"

"Right!" Loren grabbed one of Rose's arms and put it around her shoulder.

"Not the flu," Lyssa realized, as soon as she could breathe properly again. "Retrovirals. That's what they use to mess with the DNA or whatever. Viruses. Our systems don't react to them. Hers does. Sweet gods all-powerful, I think that's the answer." She took a deep breath, suddenly dizzy herself. "I think there's an answer. I think she's it."

_Wouldn't reverse the damage. But killing the viruses would halt it. Wouldn't get any worse than they are... Need a way to reverse it, too, but even this is more than I-- than I dared to expect--_

"Right," she said.

"Where are we going?" someone called.

Lyssa realized she wasn't entirely sure. "Ought to meet up with the Doctor..."

"Where'd you park the blue box?" Andy asked.

"Yeah, of course, that's where. This way, a little to the left," she called. "Around the weird blue box. Long story."

"Obviously," Loren muttered to himself.

"Don't worry," she said, and found herself grinning, close to tears. "I'll tell you everything. When we get home."

(-)


	10. Mind Over Matter

Summary: Wherein the Doctor makes his escape, and the mopup begins.

Notes: And wherein the second rationale for the title is revealed. Bit lame, but I think it works.

(-)

Chapter Ten: Mind Over Matter

(-)

One of the Doctor's captives took a deep breath, as if steadying his nerves for some terrifying encounter.

"Okay, I'm going to ask you something," he said.

That explained it.

"What are you doing here?"

The Doctor shrugged. "_I_ was just here for a nice relaxing trip to the festival, until _somebody_ kidnapped my companion and forced me to infiltrate this top-secret facility. Which was pathetically easy, by the way. You people are _miserable_ at screening your spies."

"Someone kidnapped your-- this is a _rescue_ mission," the security person realized.

"You are _far_ too smart for this job. Yes, this is a rescue mission. Try and tell someone about it, don't, it's really up to you. You won't be able to warn them in time, though. But you can try if it makes you feel better."

Something in the Doctor's pocket beeped; he pulled it out and checked it. "Well, folks, it's been just lovely chatting with you, but I'm afraid I have to go."

"What the hell _is_ this?" asked the other security person, staring at him like he was insane.

"All right," the Doctor yelled, "I'm ready to come out now."

"Open the door, slowly," the negotiator instructed, sounding like he didn't quite believe him. "Put the gun down, and step toward us, with your hands up."

"Sure." The Doctor opened the door, slid the gun across the floor, and stepped out of the room, hands held cheerfully up.

The guards were motionless for a second-- then rushed at him, tackling him to the ground and handcuffing his hands behind his back.

"Oi! That was hardly necessary," the Doctor complained.

"For once in your life, shut your _pie_ hole," snapped the head guard, knocking his head to the floor.

One of the guards was confiscating the gun; since it wasn't at all beyond their current technological capabilities, he figured he'd let them keep it. Two more guards were escorting his "hostages" from the room; they stared down at him, but didn't say a word as they were escorted down the corridor.

"Get up!" The guards yanked him to his feet, clearly testy after their half-hour standoff.

'What, you're not going to read me my rights?"

"This is a top-secret government facility," the head guard snapped. "You don't have any."

"Hmm. Almost surprising, that."

"This is the last time I'm telling you. Shut _up_."

An explosion rocked the building, causing guards to cry out in panic as parts of the ceiling fell down around them. "Get down!" the head guard yelled, though everyone already had anyway. He looked around frantically. The floor was littered with chunks of plaster. The walls behind him were on fire. And his prisoner had disappeared.

The head guard blasphemed thoroughly to himself as he got up. This was going to be a very bad day.

(-)

Lyssa was standing outside the TARDIS doors, debating to herself whether they should wait there, go in, or figure out somewhere to run. Many of the other ex-captives were debating this too, especially the ones who'd been recently captured and/or part of less mainstream organizations. Lyssa knew she should make a decision, but she had no idea what to do, and she was very, very tired. Some of the prisoners had already left, and she couldn't help but be relieved. Fewer people to make decisions for.

But Andy, and Loren, and Rose, and the guy she'd given the key to, and the mysterious songbird sage, were all still there, and looking to her like she was their leader. And it was such a heavier weight than she'd ever have dreamed.

_But maybe I can manage it. If I have to..._

"Lyssa!"

She breathed a sign of relief. "Doctor!"

The Doctor ran up, looking-- well, she'd normally have deemed that look 'inordinately smug', but at the moment, she thought it was entirely called for. "It worked?"

She nodded wearily. "Most of them left. Here's your girlfriend. She has a fever; must be the retrovirus. Gonna be important, I'm pretty sure. Here's Andy; got him back. The guy with the messy hair's my boyfriend Loren. This guy with the broken arm was very helpful. Never asked his name."

"Ellis," he said, holding out his uninjured hand to the Doctor.

"And so was this lady. Never asked her name, either."

"Sibylla." She bowed to the Doctor. "We thank you for your efforts and our freedom."

"Right. You're welcome." The Doctor took Rose from Loren. "God, she's burning up. Retrovirus? --_Oh_."

He hesitated a moment, then sighed and opened the door of the TARDIS. "I think we should hole up in here for the time being. 'Till we sort out all this medical stuff."

"...It's a box," said Loren.

"If I were you, I'd apologize to this 'box' right now before she sends you on a scenic tour of all the spare rooms. Inside, everybody. At least one of us is being chased."

Lyssa smiled. "C'mon," she said, and grabbed Loren's shirt to pull him inside.

"What-- what the hell is _this_?"

"How-- how can _this_ be in _that_!"

"You _are_ from elsewhere, aren't you?"

"Doctor, where do you keep the beer?" Lyssa asked, a hint of desperation in her voice.

"Follow me," said the Doctor, easily assuming the mantle of command. "This is my spaceship. It's called the TARDIS. Don't piss her off. And for the love of god, don't break anything. Unless you _want_ to have an interesting adventure in the man-eating jungles of Siberdian IV. But I _really_ think you don't. I am not from your planet. I helped rescue you 'cos that's what I do. And also my companion here was captured. No, we are not a couple. No, you may not touch any levers. Yes, I can help that arm of yours. Yes, I will try to help counteract this virus for you, but I doubt there's any way to reverse the damage. Retroviruses splice things in, and I don't think there's an easy way to take that back out. Even if we _did_ know what was spliced where. And judging by the changes you're exhibiting, there was more than one sequence spliced in. But we _can_ probably keep this from progressing any further. No, I do not know how much that will help you. Lyssa, the alcohol is in the kitchen, third door to the left, second hallway, first door to the right, seventh cabinet. Knock yourself out, you deserve it. Any questions?"

"...Not yet," said Loren, wide-eyed.

"Fantastic. You, on the cot there. Be right with you." He settled Rose down on the other cot, brushing her hair from her forehead. "Her immune system's fighting the virus. I'll help it along and isolate the antibodies for you. Lyssa, why don't you bring some food for everyone while you're at it?"

"Sure. Do you have any chocolate?"

"Chocolate _and_ alcohol? You _have_ had a bad day, haven't you?"

"Yes. But I'm just having chocolate. Not worth the hangover."

"Third cabinet. Rummage around, you ought to find _something_."

"Right. Be right back." She left.

"...So," Loren said, sounding slightly wounded. "Doctor _who_?"

"Just the Doctor, actually."

"Right." Loren fidgeted.

"No, I'm not trying to steal your girlfriend," the Doctor sighed, rolling his eyes. "Considering all the trouble she just went through to get you back, I'd say you're safe."

"Oh. Um. Well." Loren coughed. "Sorry."

"No need. I'd have been bothered if you _didn't_ worry. That's a damn special girl you've got there."

"Yeah. I noticed." He smiled hazily. "Wonder when she'll realize that and go find something better."

"Oi, boyfriend. Stop being an idiot." He chucked a bandage at him. "That's the kind of girl who knows what she's doing. Now, what's your name, Ellis, show me your arm..."

(-)

"...Doctor...?"

He was at her side in an instant. "Right here, Rose."

"...Good. Knew you'd be. Wha'happ'n'd?"

"Remember what I said about this planet being perfectly harmless?"

"Yeah."

"Turns out I was wrong."

"That so?"

"Happens every so often."

"Would've never guessed. What was it?"

"Corrupt government killing two birds with one stone. Gather up dissidents; use 'em as fodder for your illegal military genetic experiments. Almost clever, really."

"They injected me with things..." Rose remembered, troubled.

"Don't worry. They had to use viruses to alter their subjects' DNA. They picked a retroviral that their planet's population by-and-large couldn't fight. You're not from their planet. Your system could detect it, _and_ do a fairly good job of rooting it out. And your systems are similar enough that I could isolate your antibodies and vaccinate them."

"...Most of that was English, right?"

"Yeah. You should probably get some rest, you're still fighting off that fever."

"Dun' wanna rest. Sick of being knocked out. Happened way too much today. Is it still today?"

"It's been three days since we got here."

"Oh. Makes sense." She paused. "Got kidnapped by a magician."

"Yeah. Diabolical, really. Who'd ever be suspicious of someone disappearing during a magic trick?"

"Yeah. Stupid to've gone up there."

"No, it wasn't. How were you supposed to know? It was a magician! 'Sides, you can't travel through time and space without being willing to jump in head first."

"Yeah, fig'ered that one too." She closed her eyes.

"You really should rest."

"Yeah. How'd you get me out?"

"Hmm?"

"How'd you get me out?"

"Found a couple confederates. Infiltrated the system as a magician. Blew up a few things. I'll be happy to tell you the whole story when you're coherent."

"Tha'd be nice." Her eyes started to drift closed again. "Blew up a few things?"

He beamed. "Yep. Remind me to teach you about those explosives. Touchy little things, very easy to blow yourself up with 'em."

She was still a little hazy, but she grinned back at him. "Mm'hmm. Think I'll get some rest now."

"Yeah, you should."

"G'night, Doctor." Her eyes slipped shut

The Doctor found himself staring at her, scrutinizing her face like she was a stranger. Maybe she was. She should be.

But she didn't feel like a stranger. Not at all.

He didn't like getting attached to people; it was dangerous in his line of work, and a very bad idea.

A terrible idea. Something he'd never be crazy enough to do.

He'd thought that about a lot of things, once. For all his rampant lunacy, he'd thought there were some lines he'd never be persuaded to cross.

Innocence and vanity, and everything died.

_Everything died._

And humans, with their tiny little life-spans, lucky if they reached a century. Crazy, bold enough to weigh honor over risk.

His people had never managed that. They'd played it safe, and now they were gone.

And crazy, reckless humans were scattered throughout the galaxy, their genetic legacy living on throughout the universe.

Which choice was foolish?

Did Rose Tyler, perhaps, actually know what she was doing?

He stared down at her, left without an answer.

_But this is what she wants. These are risks she's willing to take, even if she knows she doesn't understand them. Willing to put all her trust in a stranger._

_Now you see her..._

(-)


	11. What's Behind the Curtain

Summary: Wherein Sybilla behaves oddly, and Loren is insecure. "And it's a time machine, he said. You could go off and come back and I wouldn't have to know how long you were gone. You're saying that really isn't tempting?"

Notes: Bit of a quote from the _Dies Irae_ in here. 'Dies Irae' is Latin and translates to 'Day of Wrath'. It's a part of the Catholic requiem mass, if I recall correctly. The lines quoted translate (very) roughly to, "Day of Wrath, That Day / When the world will dissolve into ashes / As witnessed by David and the Sibyl".

The Sibyls were ancient Greek priestesses who got high and made prophecies. I'm probably pushing it with that section, but I couldn't resist.

Rememer the bombshell Lyssa dropped on me a couple chapters back? It's finally revealed.

(-)

Chapter Eleven: What's Behind the Curtain

(-)

Lyssa was eating an amount of chocolate that was, frankly, worrying. But at least now she was savoring it a little, rather than stuffing it into her mouth with the strange desperation she'd had earlier. "You're gonna become diabetic, you know."

"Always a possibility, yeah." She put another piece into her mouth. "Can't do anything about that."

"Besides not eat so much sugar at once..."

"Oh, you mean adult-onset. I thought you meant something else, being, you know, nine hundred-years-old and all-knowing or whatever."

"I'm not all-knowing."

"Oh, that's a relief. It'd be really creepy if you were."

"Yeah, I agree." He blinked. Something was distinctly odd about this conversation.

"You got the vaccine ready yet?"

"Let me check, it should be finished in... yeah, I think I have enough to start with. Go get your boyfriend. Careful opening the door; you don't want him to fall through."

"What?" She opened the door; Loren yelped and grabbed the doorframe to steady himself.

"Fair warning," said the Doctor, seperating the vaccine out into doses.

"_You were listening in!_" Lyssa yelled. "What the hell was _that_ for!"

Rose muttered something incoherent about damn neighbors who should just break up and go live with their boy-toys already, and clumsily pulled her pillow above her ears.

"So I want to know what's going on!" Loren defended. "What's so wrong with that!"

"He thinks you're gonna run off with me 'cos I'm not unattractive and I have a time machine," the Doctor explained, tapping a vial and examining it critically.

"You _what_!"

"In 'is d'fense, 's 'appen'd b'fore," Rose mumbled sleepily.

"Not often. I'm getting more attractive in my old age, heh." He grinned to himself.

"Really? Hell'd y'look like b'fore?"

"Remind me to hide all of the old photo albums."

"Tha' bad, 'uh? G'na haveta start lookin'."

"Don't you _dare_. Used to make the 1980s look like Victorian England."

"D'mn, now I HAVE t'look."

"The Tardis'll never let you find 'em. She likes me more than she likes you."

"Oh yeah? We'll see about tha'."

Lyssa raised an eyebrow at Loren pointedly.

"...But he still has a time machine," Loren said, flushing.

"Yeah, that is pretty cool," Lyssa admitted. "How d'you know he'd even let me on?"

"Actually, I might consider it," the Doctor said, fixing the vials of vaccine with a wary stare.

Lyssa blinked. "Seriously?"

He shrugged. "If I couldn't tell already you wouldn't accept, I probably _would_ ask."

"And why do you think I wouldn't accept?"

He shot her a lopsided smile. "I've seen enough of love to know where your priorities always lie. I've seen enough of love to know you're in it. Tell him what happened these two days sometime; maybe that'll drive the point through his head. Tell him what losing him did to you. Tell him what you'd risk to bring him back. Don't blame the poor boy for being a bit paranoid; after all, I am frankly magnificent. But he's completely safe, and if he's as bright a lad as I assume he must be, he'll figure that out soon enough."

"All of space. All of time." Lyssa took his hands. "Never without you. You dumbass."

Loren laughed a little, nervously. "I mean, it's just-- working out this mess here, or-- or all of time and space-- you deserve that, you know. I don't want you to give that up."

"I'm not giving a damn _thing_ up. If I didn't already have all of time and space, I'd've left you _years_ ago. And I suggest you get that through your head _really_ quick, 'cause I'm only gonna get more impatient as we go on here."

"Oi, Loren, roll up your sleeve, would you?"

Loren obeyed. The Doctor had been tempted to use his syringes, but, fortunately for his patients, he had been unable to locate them and had to use his more futuristic and painless models instead. "Now, you're gonna get a fever. It won't be as bad as Rose's, 'cos I've already given you a dose of antibiotics, but it _is_ gonna be like a mild case of the flu. So, if you've got any unfinished business, I suggest you wrap it up now." He injected the vaccine into Loren's arm. "Now the only problem's making enough for everyone who was in there. You remember how many there were?"

"I..." She shook her head. "An awful lot of them ran off. I can't be sure."

"No worries; someone'll know. If not, I'll just wing it like always." He smiled reassuringly.

Lyssa blinked at him, the way people usually did when he tried to be reassuring. "Right. This virus, is it gonna be contagious?"

"This should eradicate it from his system in a few months, but I'd still get tested before you take any chances of infecting anybody. There is a standard test for it though, if I recall correctly. Shouldn't be any problem. I'll give you all the information you need before I drop you off."

"Lyssa..." Loren took her shoulders. "I _know_ I'll seem paranoid, but I just want to make sure you don't-- don't make the wrong choice and start hating me forever and all that. I read. I watched my mother's soap for fifteen years. This isn't the sort of issue you want to have. And it's a time machine, he said. You could go off and come back and I wouldn't have to know how long you were gone. You're saying that really isn't tempting?"

Lyssa rolled her eyes. "_Damn_, Loren, it's starting to be. Hello! Message for Loren! Your wife loves you! Get over it! Seriously, it could be cute, but you're really starting to push it."

"Sorry." Loren coughed, embarassed. "It's just, I think I have a duty to stay here and fix this, and I don't want to tie you to--"

"_Hello! Message for Loren! Your wife loves you! Get over it! NOW!_"

"Um. Sorry." He coughed again. "Great! Right. That's great. If you're sure."

Lyssa raised her eyes to the ceiling of the Tardis, as if beseeching it for answers. The Doctor wondered if it might not give her any. "Yes, Loren, I am sure. Do you need a reason you can believe? I will give you a reason you can believe. My reason is, it would be _damned_ hard to collect child support from a million years and two galaxies away. All _right_?"

Loren blinked. "What?"

"_That_'s what I was missing about that diabetes conversation!" the Doctor realized, delighted. "You were pretending I'd figured it out and meant _gestational_ when I really meant adult-onset. And I _should've_ figured it out, too. Clever!"

"Thanks," Lyssa said, giving the Doctor a smile. "Yeah, I've probably been moody as hell. Sorry."

"Completely understandable, even _before_ I knew about this. Congratulations!"

"Thanks."

"What?" Loren said, dazed.

The Doctor beamed at her. "Let's hope the kid gets his mum's brain. I'm gonna go vaccinate the others. You stay here an' make sure he doesn't hurt himself when he falls over in shock."

"...You're... you're pregnant?" Loren blinked at her, rather pathetically.

"Yeah."

"Since... since when?"

"Learned about a week ago. Hadn't gotten around to mentioning it yet."

"You're pregnant."

"Yes," Lyssa said patiently.

"...YES!" Loren let out a whoop of joy and swung her around, laughing in pure delight.

Rose muttered something incoherent about damn neighbors and their noisy make-up shagging.

Nobody noticed.

(-)

"You truly believe it will help?" Sybilla said, blinking up at him with tired owlish eyes.

"Can't hurt, that's for sure."

"But it won't help."

"...It's probably progressed too far to help much, yes. But if you don't chuck yourself off any cliffs, you ought to live a good long while yet."

"Or if I bump into something. These bones are fragile, easy to break. With caution, I will live a little while. That is more than I could have expected of fate yesterday. It will suffice."

"Yeah, you've got plenty of years left." He beamed at her and got up.

"But everything is doomed to death. You most of everyone know this."

He looked at her, warily. She looked back, calmly.

"Wisdom does not limit itself to the old. In fact, the oldest become most foolish if they do not defend against it. This too you have learned. You have learned so many things. The difficulty now becomes remembering it. And knowing what is true when. When to fight, when to make peace. When to live, when to die. Everything dies, but everything is born. Everything dies, and yet life persists. Do you think it is a fluke, a cruelty of nature? Or have you yet realized how life links itself with death? Everything will die. But everything has lived, and may yet live again. Have you yet remembered that life and space and time birth themselves in explosions? Or is that to come later?"

He blinked at her, unnerved. "I--"

"Do not worry. I really am crazy." She smiled faintly up at him. "But you begin to notice it. How space and time converge to bring you wherever something is wrong. With the right pebble in the right place, any river may be diverted. Have you yet realized you are the pebble? For you are many things, have been many things, will be many more. Never may you fully realize them all. But 'ware, pebble. Your destiny is bigger and more perilous than you yet dream. But... I think you will be safe. After all, something you should always remember: you are loved."

There was far too much truth in what she was saying. "Ma'am--"

"Don't worry about it." She sneezed. "Delerium. Blame it on the retrovirals. I mean it; please do." She laid down on the cot. "I will rest now."

"...Right." The Doctor left.

_Sibylla... the Sibyls... Dies irae, dies illa, solvum saeclet in favilla, teste David cum Sibylla..._

_Yeah, that's a coincidence. Got to be._

He put it out of his mind and strode cheerily back to the console room.

(-)


	12. Epilogue

Notes: Stuff about Betelgeuse is taken straight from an Astronomy textbook. I hope I'm there for that... (Heh, ask me about my pet theory relating the Doctor and O-type stars.)

Anyway, thank you to anyone who's read through this whole thing. (These notes have been typed before I posted it, so I can't thank anyone by name or respond to anything-- sorry.) Hopefully it's been at least as fun for you as it was for me.

(-)

Epilogue

(-)

"Y'know, for some reason, when I signed up for this? I never expected to get a cold." Rose sniffled and held her sleeve up to her nose. "Seemed too... _normal_, I guess."

"Technically, it was an alien retrovirus."

"Now _that_ I should've expected." She sneezed. "I just hope it's cleared up by the next time I have to run for my life."

"Don't worry. We've got plenty of time. I know some places that are _really_ harmless. Wait'll you see it; a sea, flash-frozen in the middle of a storm... Your galaxy, rising... Places with pink oceans and blue trees... Betelgeuse's going nova within a millenium of your time; might be interesting to see your species flap around like chickens with their heads cut off... they really do do that, you know."

"What, my species, or chickens?"

"Both. Betelgeuse'll be interesting, though. Ten times brighter than the full moon. Freak the hell out of _everybody_. Bloody hilarious. Watch the poor astronomers try to explain it's not an alien weapon, it's perfectly natural... half the population won't believe 'em... Come damn close to a nuclear response... Sad, really."

"Seriously?"

"Oh, yeah. Makes quite a splash. Like I said, ten times brighter than the full moon. Drives you people _nuts_."

"You just want to go there so you can make fun of my species, don't you?"

"Why can't we go somewhere that's fun for both of us?" He grinned. "Besides... someone's got to make sure you people don't blow yourselves up. Damned hard work, I'll have you know." He beamed at her.

She grinned back fondly, catching the tip of her tongue between her teeth, the way she usually did when he smiled like that. "Then we'd better get started, right?"

"Yep! Off we go!"

(-)

In Apartment 42J on Aker Street, there was a man watching the news as he got ready to go to work.

There was a newspaper on his table, the classifieds section open and neatly folded, job offers circled in mauve. All paid less than his last job, but it was probably worth it not to be involved in a massive evil government conspiracy.

Especially as said conspiracies tended eventually to wind up on the news. This one had.

It had started, as it always did, with a group of nutters claiming they'd been kidnapped by magicians and subjected to genetic experimentation. At first it had only made the tabloids-- but then strange details kept coming up, like the L31 virus being present in their systems, and the mysterious bomb that went off in a classified government facility, and strange accounting irregularities in the BNS. People had begun showing up from out of the woodwork to testify. A guard here, a security person there, a former receptionist there. And it had slowly begun to be taken seriously. The mysterious, saintly skeletal woman with the ugly growths of featherless wings, subjecting herself to every objective scientific examination they could come up with... the "official" results hadn't been released yet, due to scientists' eternal need to cover their asses, but several members of the team had already leaked that the scientific evidence was strongly in support of their story.

Lyssa, Loren, Andy, Sibylla, and Ellis were being followed by a growing crowd of press, as the country slowly began to realize that their story was true.

Morry wasn't being followed by anybody. He sometimes felt a little resentful about that, but tried to remember that being followed by nobody was a hell of a lot better than being followed by an assassin.

Still, he did sort of want his virtue to be noticed. But he _had_ been a coward for all but the last day of his employment, so he was probably lucky he _had_ passed under the radar... virtue really was its own reward. He knew that whenever he caught his reflection in the mirror and could stare at it for a moment uneasily, instead of turning away at the slightest excuse like he had before.

He still wanted to know who that lunatic with the scarf was, though. And how the hell he'd pulled this off.

Because Morry knew damn well he had.

Morry pulled open his door; it was time for the next round of interviews. All of them thus far had been marred by his glaring lack of references from his former employer, not to mention his vagueness as to where his job had actually been.

But he'd find a job eventually. And it had been worth it. _That_, at least, he didn't doubt for a second.

He tripped over something and nearly fell, catching himself against his neighbor's door just in time. He yelled an apology before the bitter old lady could start haranguing him, and looked down to figure out what he could've tripped over.

It was a largish brown package, with two letters attached neatly to the top.

Morry blinked, picked up the package, and took it inside. _Could be a bomb... but no one really cares that much about me, do they?_

He took the first letter, which was typewritten, and opened it curiously.

_Dear Mr. Morry,_

_You may not remember us, but you provided some services to us a few weeks ago that were greatly appreciated. As it happens, we are currently in need of an assistant to schedule our interviews with the press, our lawyers, our offices, and so forth. You have been reccommended to us by a source we consider unimpeachable, and thus we would like to offer you the first chance at this position._

Morry blinked rapidly. The next paragraph was a description of hours and salary; the hours were long, and the salary a trifle short, but it was... workable. But who on earth could have--?

_Besides, all of us who know the real circumstances under which you lost your last position should stick together. To whom else can we talk about some lunatic in a magic blue box?_

_Please answer soon; we're getting drowned in calls._

_And if you aren't as good a person as he thinks you are, I will pull your guts out through your nose. I'm pregnant and my father worked in the post office; I would reccommend against trifling with me._

_Thank you._

_Warmest regards, _

_Lyssa Loren'na _

Morry blinked again. _Them. Him._

_She's clearly a lunatic. I'd have to be crazy._

Morry looked at the return address. _Good, should be easy to get to if I take Central Circle._

The issue of his sanity settled, he looked at the other envelope. This one was handwritten, on a paper that was an unusual shade of white.

_Morry,_

_Don't ask how I learned your name. I reccommended you to Lyssa and Loren because I can tell you'll be trustworthy, and we all do owe you. You did the right thing when it mattered most. Be proud of that._

_You're probably still wondering who I am and what I am. Unfortunately, I'm a little hazy about that myself, most days. I can tell you (because you do deserve to know) that I am called the Doctor, and I am the same person you saw that day when you were young. It was a few hundred years ago for me, though, so I hope you don't try to eat that jelly baby. But jelly babies _never_ go bad, what's wrong with me? That'd be impossible. _

_It was a few hundred years and five or so lives ago, and I really can't explain it to you._

_Thank you, Morry, for helping us. You may not become famous for it, but I can promise you I'll remember. I always do. I know how hard it was to do the right thing instead of the safe thing, and I am always in awe of the people who are brave enough to do it. Silly, noble people like you are the reason the universe is still here._

_Remember that, Morry. And thank you._

_The Doctor_

Morry opened the bundle with trembling hands, knowing what it was.

Jelly babies. An entire bag of them.

A quiet link to the miraculous.

He let out a breath in wonder, suddenly just _grateful_ that he'd done the right thing, and the right thing had come out of it. That didn't happen every day.

He took a steadying breath, popped the candy into his mouth, and walked out to apply for his new job.

(-)


End file.
